Change of Hearts
by gammara
Summary: Possible spoilers for Harbinger -- a what if T'Pol loves Trip scenario with lots of AT'P and smatterings of TT'P
1. Change of Hearts part one

Change of Hearts - Part One 

Pairing: A/T'P, with moments of T/T'P (folks who like T/T'P may not like this story)

Thanks to Monica for editing this!

Chapter One 

T'Pol walked into Trip's quarters using her code, as she did almost every night these days. As she punched the final button, she realized the door wouldn't open. 

'Odd,' she thought.

She tried the code again with the same effect. She pressed her thumb against the comm button and instructed, "Computer, locate Commander Tucker."

The computer chirped back, "Commander Tucker is in Engineering."

T'Pol waded through her feelings, wondering if perhaps he wanted privacy this evening. She felt for some reason he was growing distant lately. She mulled over the thought, turned her back and headed into the Mess Hall. Each step she took led her thoughts down a new avenue. Their relationship was only four months old; what could possibly go wrong in such a short amount of time? She decided to ponder the matter over a cup of Vulcan tea and ruminate on the problem to determine the most logical course of action.

She walked in and placed a mug under the food replicator when she spied Captain Archer sitting across the room, reading a book. Since the mission had concluded and they began heading back to Earth, he'd seemed almost like his old self. He was quieter, perhaps more weary, but definitely less demanding. He still isolated himself -- that had not changed.

He looked up briefly and caught her eye. He smiled and closed his book politely. 

"Hey, T'Pol. Didn't expect you in here," he said.

She took the mug to her lips. "Nor, I," she whispered into the cup.

Archer had known this woman for three years. He'd seen the furrows in her forehead and the emotion in her before – she was sad. He smirked and offered her a seat. "Something bugging you?"

T'Pol sat and watched the red liquid swirl around in her cup, becoming transfixed with it. She absent-mindedly said, "It is of a personal nature."

He knew what that meant – it was about Trip. He'd heard the two had entered a relationship sometime back. He still remembered the day he found out the news from Hoshi. He'd hated it. Surprised the hell out of him for many reasons – he never thought T'Pol and Trip would make a good couple, never thought T'Pol would be interested in a human, never thought Trip would settle down with _one_ woman and never thought he'd be jealous about it. It was true. He'd been in love with her for more than a year … maybe two. But, he couldn't say anything. After he found out, he'd tried to be supportive. No, scratch that. He decided to become lost in his job; he wouldn't talk about it. He'd taken the drive he had in the mission and narrowed his focus like a laser beam. He didn't want to feel jealousy, confusion, regret and grief, especially when Earth's destruction was imminent. He didn't have time to think about himself or them. He didn't want to have time to think about _them_. 

Since then, he'd become more and more accepting. He still didn't like it, but decided to wish them well. He knew Trip was a good person, and he loved the man almost like a brother. And, maybe it was love that made him wish T'Pol happiness. She was beautiful, smart, engaging, kind, challenging …. She deserved to be happy. 

He sat back, wondering if he should ask why she wrinkled her forehead. He'd already decided to choose a path of acceptance many months ago; he might as well go for broke, now that he had the luxury of time. 

"You and Trip?" he asked, knowing the Mess Hall was empty.

She glanced sideways at him, uncertain whether she should continue. "I am certain it is nothing, Captain." 

She thought of Jonathan Archer as a friend. She had learned to trust him and admire him. He also had unique insight into Charles' behaviour. If she could talk with anyone on board about this incident, it would be him. 

Archer joked, "Well, I don't exactly have terrific dating record, but … I'd be willing to give some advice.

She felt a little relieved at his comment, but continued with stoicism, "I feel Commander Tucker is drawing away from me."

"Maybe you're imagining it," reassured Archer.

"No. I do not … imagine things. Tonight, I tried to use the entrance code he provided; it did not work." 

"Maybe he just needed a little privacy," he said with a lopsided smile.

"There are other indications," she murmured. "He has not been as … affectionate."

Archer's smile collapsed. He was treading into territory he didn't want to hear about, but doubted T'Pol would talk about their sex life. He remained quiet.

"And … he is normally quite affectionate," she added.

"Is being affectionate important to you?" he asked, not knowing whether Vulcans kissed, touched and more. 

"Not necessarily. However, for Commander Tucker it is unusual for him to not to be demonstrative."

'Uh, oh,' thought Archer. He knew this part of Trip pretty well. The man was sensitive, charming, funny … and got bored with women easily, but T'Pol? The man seemed genuinely crazy about her. Archer felt there was something about his pal that made him irresistible to women. Must be, he was constantly bombarded by them.

Archer was about to open his mouth, when he saw someone walk in. He said, "Why don't we take this to my quarters?"

"You are not otherwise busy?" she asked.

"Not really," said Archer. He stood up and made his way out the door and down the hall. T'Pol followed lost in thought behind him. 

As he entered the barely lit room, he poured himself a drink. Porthos looked up with mild interest, noticed the visitor and went back to sleep. Jon looked down at his dog as he took the scotch to his lips. 

"Don't you wish you were a dog sometimes?" he mused.

She raised an eyebrow and responded, "No."

He chuckled to himself, "Of course you don't." He placed the crystal top back in the scotch decanter and asked, "Would you like something?"

"My tea is sufficient. Thank you," she responded.

He headed over to the bed and offered her the seat at his desk. He scratched his head thoughtfully and tossed around in his mind how to deal with her question. He began slowly, "You know, humans aren't always affectionate, T'Pol."

"Oh?"

"As a relationship … matures … the affection becomes less physical," he said. "Have you … talked with him about it?"

"I have attempted," she said, crossing her legs. She took the cup to her mouth and sipped, letting the liquid glide down easily. Her eyes shimmered despite the low light of his quarters.

"What did he say?" asked Archer, leaning back on his elbows.

"That I should not be concerned," she replied. 

This was more painful than Archer realized. Why would Trip mess up this opportunity with T'Pol? He was lucky to have gotten her in the first place. Damned lucky. 

He mustered up his courage and asked, "I don't want to pry, but has he mentioned the 'L' word?"

"The 'L' word?" asked T'Pol. 

Archer added sheepishly, "You know … love."

She still looked puzzled.

Archer asked more bluntly, "Did he tell you he loved you?"

She said flatly, "Yes."

Archer sighed long and deep. This was gut wrenching. He took a swallow of his drink and said, "Well, you see. I'm sure everything is okay. I know Trip wouldn't tell you he loved you unless he did."

She took another drink and whispered, "But he has not mentioned it within the past week."

Archer winced. He wasn't really sure what to do. He thought it was a pretty bad sign, but didn't want to give her any indication it was bad news. He swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp and leaned over, letting his feet touch the floor. He reached out for her hands and took them, trying to be supportive. 

He said slowly, "I think you two should talk about things."

"You think it is an indication something is wrong?" she asked.

He let his hands drop and admitted, "I don't know. I'm just not sure I can help you." God, he wanted to help her. He wanted to tell her that she was too good for Trip anyway. He wanted to explain to her he desired her, lusted after her … loved her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, stroke her hair …. He knew it was too much to ask. He understood that she needed someone to confide in, not someone to take her mind off her problems. 

She stared into her mug.

"I know this has been difficult for you to discuss, and I appreciate you sharing it with me. I wish I had an answer for you. I'm not convinced anything is wrong, I just think you two should talk."

She saw something in his eyes that made her sit back in her chair. She always thought he was handsome, but watching the care and concern in his eyes was moving. "You do not have any speculation?"

"I don't know, T'Pol. We're getting closer to Earth."

"He is embarrassed of our relationship?" she asked.

"No," said Archer, rubbing his thighs with anxiety. Maybe. "I mean, he might be reassessing things, wondering how he wants to handle your relationship …. I don't know. I'm guessing."

She blew into her mug and brought it to her lips. After she swallowed, she asked, "It is possible there is someone else?"

"You mean he's having an affair with someone?"

She raised her eyebrows in return. 

Now, he was really uncomfortable. "I think if you feel this way you should talk with him."

Without missing a beat, T'Pol said, "You are correct of course. I apologize for placing you in a difficult situation."

He reassured, "T'Pol, I don't think he's interested in anyone else. But, if he was … I doubt he'd tell me. I mean, if you were looking for me to reveal a confidence …."

"I would never ask you to betray his confidence," she reiterated. "I wanted your opinion."

He nodded once and decided to get up and fix himself another drink. This was awful! Why in the world did he agree to this discussion? 

"Are you looking forward to returning to Earth?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Archer wheeled around. "I don't know. Yes. I know it won't be for long. I'm sure Forrest will ask us to continue our original mission. Actually, I wouldn't mind doing that …." He poured an amber liquid into his glass and raised it to his lips. 

"Do you have … someone waiting for you on Earth?" she asked.

He wanted to spill his drink, but regained his composure. "No," he said.

"You do not have family or a significant other?" she asked.

He crossed back to his bed and sat down, looking into his glass. "No. I have some friends, but almost everyone in my family is dead."

"I did not realize," she replied.

He shrugged. "Doesn't really bother me." He thought, 'Well, not anymore.'

She pressed her lips firmly against each other. After a few moments she said, "I should leave you to your evening. I apologize for disturbing it."

"No. You didn't disturb my evening. Heck, it's a book I've already read anyway. Besides, you're a friend. You can come to me any time you want. I'll be here for you," he said with a smile.

"I appreciate your assistance in the matter with Commander Tucker."

"I hope everything works out," he added. "I know it will."

She gathered herself up and strolled out the door. Archer lay back on his bed and gulped down the rest of his drink.

Chapter Two 

T'Pol wandered back to her cabin and decided to meditate on the matter regarding Charles. She did not understand its complexities. Something, as he would say, 'nagged' at her. As she stared into the flame her comm beeped.

"T'Pol here," she replied.

"Hey, it's me," said Trip. "I … ah … wanted to talk with you. You busy?"

She looked at her meditation candles. "I was only meditating. You can come here, if you desire."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he responded. 

She took her thumb away from the comm and stared at it. She wound her hands around her knees and sat on her bed, waiting. She knew by his voice it was going to be uncomfortable. Perhaps that was 'instinct' – the thing humans were always talking about. She had no empirical data, just a _feeling_. 

As she closed her eyes, her door chimed. She stood and walked to the door. The look on Charles' face was grim. He shoved his hands through his hair and said, "Can we talk?"

"Of course," she responded. She waved him into her cabin and sat down. 

"I … I don't know how to say this, or how you're going to take what I have to say."

She offered him a seat, seeing him standing and tugging needlessly at his shirt, fidgeting with the material. 

He refused saying, "I'm just gonna get this out and we can talk about it now, or when you're ready."

She raised her eyebrow. "Please, proceed."

"I'm not sure about us," he said too quickly. He regretted how it came out, but was glad it was out in the open.

She took a long breath and admitted, "I expected you to say this."

Trip sunk onto her bed. "I've been wondering about us for a while. I'm just not sure it's working out. I mean … it's me. I know we're heading back to Earth. I want to forget about this mission and everything that's happened. I mean, us … us was great. You're great. I just … I just don't know. I don't think we should see each other for a while, at least while we're on Earth. I want to make sure this is right. I want to make sure us is right. I mean, I think we need a break."

She stared down at the floor, wondering if she was hearing the conversation. "Vulcans rarely end relationships."

Trip's face skewed up with confusion. "What about Koss?"

"That was not an intimate relationship, Charles," she offered weakly. She had allowed this man's thoughts to roam inside her head. She had willingly become intimate with him. She did not know how long their relationship would last, but took for granted it would be long-lived. "Is there another?" she asked, barely finding her voice.

Trip scratched his head. "Not really. I mean, I've been thinking of someone for a while, but I haven't initiated anything. And, I think I was interested in her not so much for her, but because I was unsure about us."

T'Pol didn't want to know. A few moments of silence passed between them. Trip reached out for her hands, trying to hug her to him, comfort her. She broke away from his grasp. "If your intention is to end our relationship, I would prefer we do not have further physical contact."

She was so cold sometimes. He nodded slowly, wishing it was a couple of months ago when the two of them were wound in each other's arms and he had loved her with a passion he thought could never die. Coming to Earth was a mixed blessing. He wasn't sure he wanted to be with a Vulcan. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't think he was getting cold feet, but felt he owed T'Pol the truth. 

"You know, I still think of you as a friend. And, I hope that won't change, T'Pol," he whispered. "And there might still be something between us. Who knows?"

"You are my friend. Too much has happened between us for that to change," she confided.

Trip furrowed his brow and drew himself up, trying to stand as tall as possible. He wished she'd cry or do something to make him comfort her, or know what she was thinking. Now, she was a brick wall, determined to hide her emotions.

"I'll always be here for you," he tossed out.

"I know," she replied, walking him to the door. As he left, he didn't know what to think. She was so quiet. She hadn't asked many questions. She had taken everything just as Vulcanly as possible. He hoped she'd be okay. He knew she would be. He hoped she would be. 

T'Pol watched the door close and felt emotions nipping at her. She felt confusion, remorse, guilt, sorrow and loss. She had been thrown away, discarded. Charles was unsure why he didn't want her, or need her. He just didn't want her. The truth was plain – he just no longer loved her. She took a long, deep breath and held it in. It seemed the need to 'think things over' was a euphemism to break things off.

She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to sort through her feelings.

Chapter Three 

Trip stumbled down the hall, racked with guilt. They were headed to Earth; it'd take less than a month to reach it … but he thought what he just did would further complicate matters on board the ship. "Better tell the captain," he said aloud to himself.

As he made his way to Archer's door, he hung there, hoping Archer wouldn't tear into him as he would've only a few weeks before – when he was the asshole who led the Enterprise into the Expanse. He'd noticed Archer had softened a lot since the conflict was resolved, and hoped that guy would be available.

He nervously, pressed his finger against the door chime. Archer looked a little dishevelled like he had just been awakened. 

"Trip," he said, trying to bring himself to life.

"Sorry, Cap'n. You got a couple of minutes to talk?" he asked.

"Sure," responded Archer, moving out of the way. He scratched his head and sat down on the bed, in virtually the same spot he had taken while talking with T'Pol.

Trip huffed and kicked the deck plating for a few moments. He then dragged himself over to the chair at Archer's desk and threw himself into it. He leaned back and stretched his legs out.

"What's on your mind?" prompted Archer. He had an inkling this was about T'Pol, but was determined to make Trip go through the motions.

Trip looked at the decanter of scotch and said, "Maybe we should have a drink?"

"Bad news, huh?" asked Archer, crossing over and pouring two full glasses.

"You're not gonna like it. It might affect my working relationship with a member of the bridge crew."

Archer was about to grab the two drinks and head back. He stopped and took a deep breath. "T'Pol?"

Trip scratched his head. "Ah, hell. Yeah, it's T'Pol. I broke up with her tonight."

Archer's face tugged down as he handed him a glass. "Trip, I don't think Vulcans can just … break up."

Tucker smirked, "I know, I know. I just … I don't know what I want. Maybe I _am_ embarrassed of what my folks and friends would think about T'Pol. Maybe I'm just nervous because I've never been this close to someone. Her thoughts sometimes rummage around in my head. Maybe I just need a break from everyone on the Enterprise. I never really mourned Lizzie."

Archer quipped, "So which one is it?"

"I guess a combination of all of the above."

"Well, if you're closer to her than anyone else, you'd think you'd want to continue that. I haven't seen you with anyone for this long in a while. She obviously cares a lot about you," he said. He sipped deeply into his drink. His heart was pounding in his chest. Deep down, he wanted to convince his friend he did the right thing, but knew T'Pol would be devastated. 

"See, that's just it. I don't know _if she cares a lot about me. She never really says anything. Even when we're intimate …."_

Archer really didn't want to hear this, and something in him snapped, interrupting his friend, "Well, as your captain, I appreciate you telling me about this. It's only a few weeks until we reach Earth. I'm sure you can be professional until then. Right?"

Trip drank and nodded. When Archer raised his eyebrows, Trip added a "Yes, sir."

"As your friend, I think I can tell you – I think you just fucked up. You seemed incredibly happy. T'Pol seemed happy … well … for a Vulcan. I think if you're embarrassed about your relationship, you should've thought of that before. And, if you're embarrassed, you're an idiot. If you're scared, you should hang in there and talk to her about it. And as for mourning Lizzie … you never really stopped. You've been using it as an excuse for the past few months." 

Trip glared at him, pointing his finger. "Now, wait a minute …."

"You obviously came here to talk to me as a friend. I thought you wanted some advice. So, I'm giving it. I don't think you understand -- this was deeply personal to T'Pol."

"How do you know?" asked Tucker.

"I know enough about her to understand. I would've thought you knew her better."

That stung. "I still love her …."

Archer countered, "You love her so much you needed a break? Is there another woman?" 

Trip shook his head. "Not really."

"Not really doesn't sound like a 'no.'"

"Well, I'm not planning on anything."

"You going tell me?" asked Archer.

"I received a communication from Natalie a week ago or so. She said her relationship was over, and was interested in seeing me as soon as I got back."

"Ahhh … so that's it," he said snidely. He looked into his glass and gave a vacant smile.

"I'm not sure how I feel about her," confessed Trip. "I loved Natalie. I thought I'd marry her."

"Sounds like you need to think things over. I hope you get everything worked out," responded Archer.

"Listen, Jon. Would you check in on T'Pol? She seemed pretty … unreadable when I left."

"She was probably upset, Trip. I'm not sure she'd want company."

Trip shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I'd just feel better. Could you do that for me?"

Archer shrugged, "Alright." He hated the position he was in. 

Trip smiled. "Thanks, Jon."

Chapter Four 

After an hour of laying awake and alone in the darkness, T'Pol's door chime rang. She wondered if Charles had come back to see how she was. He was emotional enough to do so. She decided to answer the door, in case someone was calling her to duty. When she answered the door she raised an eyebrow. 

"May I help you, Captain?" she asked.

He looked a bit rumpled and out of sorts. He nodded and whispered, "Listen, I just want you to know Trip told me what happened," he said barging into her cabin as the door closed.

"It seems my suspicions were correct," she offered.

"You okay?" he asked. Although no emotions were leaking out, he knew her well enough to know the timbre of her voice when it was gloomy. Her eyes seemed glassier than normal. And her shoulders sagged uncharacteristically. 

She felt empty, unwanted, discarded, unloved. No matter how much she willed them to go away – her emotions gnawed at her, demanding attention. 

"I am unharmed," she commented.

She seemed stiffer and more formal than normal, which to Archer seemed like a bad sign. He took a step forward, wondering if he should hold her, or whether she would see that as an invasion. He decided she could chide him later as he cupped her shoulders and brought her to his chest. 

He held her there and murmured, "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I'd been wanting everything to work out between you two." 

Her emotions were swirling around her head. But, she felt other emotions, too. She felt her own sorrow, but also felt caring, friendship, hope and a tinge of … desire? It was his; he desired her. She sorted through her thoughts. This was really too much. She tried to block out his feelings. 

Oblivious to bombarding her with his thoughts, he said, "T'Pol, I know you have emotions. I know you must be feeling hurt and upset. I know you're probably confused. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Trip was pretty concerned about you when he left."

"And, thus he asked you to check on me?" challenged T'Pol. 

He backed up from her and looked deeply into her eyes. "You're my friend." No, she was more, but he couldn't really tell her that.

She remained silent, staring at him, wondering what he wanted. 

"I remember the first time a girl broke up with me. I felt undeserving, unattractive …. After a few months I started dating again, but it was tough. She was my first real love," he mentioned.

She straightened her spine. "I assume you are attempting to cheer me up?"

His lips tugged down. "Not working?"

"No," she replied.

"Something I can do to help?" he asked.

"I doubt it," she replied. 

"T'Pol," he nudged. 

She stared at him and found her hands balled into tight fists. "Vulcans do not enter into relationships lightly. I had attempted one with Commander Tucker knowing the ramifications. I understood that there might be issues or problems that would arise. And, he made no promises about a long-term commitment. However, I found myself wanting it. Wanting him. To a Vulcan, that is despicable and illogical."

He admired her for admitting her emotions and for feeling them, but disliked that they involved Trip. "What happens now?" he asked, sitting down on her bed. 

"I am uncertain. Charles touched my mind. No doubt another Vulcan would sense this. I do not believe I would be able to forge a long-term relationship with another Vulcan now. And, I am not certain I want to. I found that I … enjoyed … human passion and emotion."

Archer raised his eyebrows. He sensed the conversation had progressed far beyond her comfort, but decided to continue. "Come here," he said, patting the bed. 

She warily sat beside him, heavily, feeling a little wrung out. She wanted the captain to go, but she also wanted him to stay. His presence felt comforting.

"So, he had a profound impact on you. It sounds like as much as you could, you loved him."

"That is … logical," she admitted. 

He smirked, "Does he know? When he talked to me he seemed a little unsure."

"Do humans need to be told these things?" she asked.

He chortled, "Some more than others, but yes."

"If our relationship has ended, what purpose would it serve?" she asked, tracing her fingers on the bedspread.

"You never know. It might change the situation. I bet Trip would like to hear it. Humans admit to feelings sometimes, even when they know the desired outcome isn't possible."

"Always?" she questioned, with another agenda.

Archer's eyes darkened, wondering her intent. He decided to admit, "If we're smart."

"Are you smart?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he returned, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Captain, do you have feelings for me?" she asked, plainly, wondering why she asked at all.

He took a steady breath. "You're my friend, T'Pol," he lied. "Why?" He didn't want to tell her how he felt. It was wrong. And he certainly didn't want to complicate matters for her now. Not that he thought she would be interested. 

She peaked an eyebrow. "It is of no consequence."

"You going to talk with Trip?" asked Jon, trying to change the subject.

"Perhaps," she responded. 

Archer stood up. "As your captain, I asked Trip to be professional about this. We only have a few weeks until we reach Earth. I'm pretty sure I don't need to ask you to be professional. Do I?"

"No," she responded.

He nodded. It sucked to be the captain sometimes; now was one of those times. "Let me know if you need anything," he said. 

"Of course," she replied.

He hung near the door and asked, "Say, why don't just you and I have dinner tomorrow night. Maybe you'll let me escort you to the movies." He beamed, trying to make it seem friendly.

The movies was the last place she wanted to be. Trip talked about films many times to her. She didn't want to see another Earth film. She knew Archer's intent was well meaning and said, "Perhaps only dinner. I do not wish to see a movie for some time."

"Dinner it is. I'll meet you in the Captain's Mess at 1900."

"Very well."

He gave her a boyish grin, an understanding nod and marched out the door with a renewed sense of purpose. 

Chapter Five 

Archer was on the way to meet T'Pol for dinner, but the crew was so ecstatic to be going home, a few of them insisted on him joining them for alcohol they supplied. He felt obliged to drink with most of them. When he joined T'Pol he felt a little light-headed and brave. He walked into the room and saw the ever-punctual Vulcan waiting for him to sit down.

"Sorry for being late," he said. 

"You are only approximately five minutes late," she retorted.

He grinned, "Still." God, she was beautiful. Even in her simple purple suit, she just seemed to radiate and glow. He realized he was staring and mentioned, "Uhm, what happens to you when we reach Earth. I … I was hoping to talk with Admiral Forrest about giving you a field commission. How does Commander grab you?" 

"I am uncertain what lies ahead. I have been meditating on that. Perhaps I will return to Vulcan," she confessed.

Archer was stunned. "What?!" he asked.

She opened her mouth to repeat her words, when he interrupted, "No. We need you here, on Enterprise."

She furrowed her brow. "Captain, it would be unwise for me to continue on Enterprise, especially since my relationship with Commander Tucker has … soured."

"On the contrary," he argued. "I would love for you to stay. You're a valuable part of my crew. You're the best science officer I've ever seen. I trust you. Besides, you said yourself it would be difficult to return to Vulcan."

She hung her head down and whispered, "That is true."

"Commander Tucker's a big boy. He can live with the choices he's made. You've made a lot of friends here, T'Pol, besides Trip. You and Dr. Phlox seem to have a good relationship. Ensign Sato looks up to you. Ensign Mayweather admires you. Hell, Lt. Reed thinks you hung the moon. And, well, I would hate to see you go," he offered.

"I will consider it," she said.

This was a bad idea. She was obviously brooding about her relationship in her Vulcan way – stoically and barely noticeable. Well, noticeable to him. 

"Hey, where are you staying when we reach Earth?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrow. "Unknown at present. The Vulcan Consulate has appropriate accommodations."

"Well," he began, "I think you should stay over at my place."

Her eyebrow climbed against her head.

"I mean, I have a couch in the living room that folds out into a bed. Besides, I'd love to take you around the California area -- show you the deserts, take you to some of the museums and stuff. And, I bet you'd feel more comfortable at my place. I promise I'll even cook vegetarian meals for you. Come on, it'd be great!"

She responded, "I am unsure …."

He sipped his fourth glass of wine, without much to eat for dinner. "You don't know what you're missing. I've heard my mushroom ravioli is excellent."

She poked at her meal and sipped her water. "It would be more convenient," she admitted.

His smile filled almost his entire face. "Excellent. I haven't had a guest in a while," he beamed. In fact, he hadn't had a guest since Rebecca, his ex-girlfriend, slept over at his place before he took off for Enterprise's original mission to return the Klingon. He blushed at the thought.

"You seem to have had a few drinks this evening," she commented, watching his face flush.

He smiled. "Well, T'Pol. We've reached an agreement with the Xindi, averted Earth's destruction and we're headed home. Why shouldn't I be thrilled?" he asked. He neglected to mention perhaps he had a remote shot of a romance with his first officer.

"You do seem more like yourself," she said, stabbing some lettuce and putting it in her mouth.

He gave her a lopsided smile and stared down at his own plate. "So, I hear Hoshi gave you some of her clothing to wear in San Francisco."

T'Pol nodded, "Yes. Although I am uncertain what would be the appropriate course of action when meeting Soval."

He chuckled, "You'd look too human to be respectable?"

Her eyes lit up and she responded, "Yes."

He laughed, "I'll work up an itinerary when you come. I can think of a handful of things you should do on Earth during your stay."

"Can we include the temples in Tibet you have visited?" she asked, sipping her water.

"I'm surprised you remembered that. Absolutely!" he replied.

Chapter Six 

T'Pol and Jon had grown much closer in the weeks preceding their visit to Earth. They had dinner together, alone, about three days per week. They even began spending time together … just hanging out. Archer would have her over and read as she reviewed various reports. Occasionally, he'd afford himself the luxury of watching her look over the reports. If she caught him, he'd claim, "Seems like a tough problem." 

She'd eventually discuss the issue with him, which always made him feel better. There was no doubt in his mind – he loved her. He loved the fact they could be together. He loved the fact she wanted to spend time with him. And he loved that they were both comfortable enough to be together in silence. He frequently read in his bed and she gathered on the floor. He even noticed Porthos would wander eventually into her lap, and she'd stroke his fur in thought. Although, he eventually saw the tip of her nose twitch, as the smell probably began to bother her.

He and Trip had been spending less time together. Actually, Trip was grateful that Archer was so supportive of T'Pol, but was beginning to wonder what the captain's motivations were. Before Trip and T'Pol began to date, he was almost certain that Jon was smitten with her. In fact, he thought his feelings were deeper. But, in the Expanse, Archer was almost completely unreachable and unreadable. Trip decided to make his move on T'Pol, hearing her confession about being jealous. If his friend had really been interested, he would've told him his intentions or raised some kind of objection, but the captain seemed thrilled. Well, maybe thrilled wasn't the right word.

The day before they entered Sol, Earth's solar system, Jon wandered the halls whistling. He'd never felt so good, and the rest of the crew was also excited. He came up with a final itinerary and provided it to T'Pol that evening at dinner.

He grinned. "The first night, I thought we'd spent in San Francisco. There's a great vegan restaurant I think you would like on Nob Hill, or I could cook. The next day, we could visit Yosemite National Park. I used to go there as a kid. The hiking there is not very difficult, and we could take a few trails that I really enjoy. The next day, we could head over to the Grand Canyon and spend the day there. I know you have to meet Ambassador Soval on Thursday, so I figured …."

She interrupted, "It appears to be a busy schedule."

He chuckled, "I just … there are so many things I think you'd enjoy."

"You are thoughtful," she said, leaning over her salad.

He beamed, relishing her praise and sipped his ice tea. "We'll see if you think I'm so thoughtful after I make you dinner tomorrow night."

Her eyes filled with warmth. "I am certain it will be appetizing."

"Well, I'm going over the schedule, but you already had time to look at everything. Anything else you'd want to do while on Earth?"

"No," she replied. "I look forward to my time there."

"Good. I'm going to head down on the first shuttle tomorrow at about 0800. Want me to help you carry your bags?"

"No. That is unnecessary," she responded.

Chapter Seven 

He walked into his condo, and held the door open for her. 

He took her on a tour of his place, including the bathroom, photos of friends and relatives, and other odds and ends. She took in his place – he seemed to like neutral tones and had very little artwork on the wall, other than black and white pictures. His tan sofa was large enough for three people and has a glass coffee table in front of it. The kitchen had wood floors and cabinets and the dining room had a large wooden Mission style table and chairs. It was neat, but somewhat impersonal.

He fixed himself a glass of wine and offered her one, before they rushed out to get groceries for dinner. She twirled the glass in her hand. "I do not often drink."

He took the wine glass to his lips and said, "Don't feel obligated."

She took a sip. "I do not."

He smiled with surprise. "Good."

She put the wine glass down and said, "You have an aesthetically pleasing abode."

"Well, I'm not much on decorations."

She drank more from her glass. "I like your black and white pictures."

He pointed to the one taken in Yosemite. "Well, we're going there tomorrow."

"I look forward to it."

Archer's heart was racing. She was here, sitting on his couch, drinking his wine and staying with him all week. He promised himself he wouldn't push their relationship. He doubted she'd want to anyway. He knew he should just be happy to have her company. But, she looked radiant. She was wearing typical Vulcan clothing, much like she did on Enterprise. 

He reached his hand across the back of the couch and stretched out, folding his knee across his leg and mused, looking into his wine glass. 

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something troubling you?"

He responded, "No. Actually, I'm not troubled at all."

She found the glint in his eye familiar. He frequently looked at her like that these days, at least within the last three weeks. She remembered he looked at her that way before she began a relationship with Charles. Thinking about her previous relationship with Commander Tucker made her wonder about Archer's intentions. For some reason she polished off the remainder of her glass of wine, set the glass on the table in front of her and placed two fingers tentatively to his. 

He stared at her, afraid to move or breathe else he would chase her away. He didn't want to get involved with her for her sake, but didn't want to turn her away. As their fingers stroked each other's, he finally asked, "What are you doing?"

"I am showing you a Vulcan embrace," she admitted. Her fingers widened the stroke of her embrace, as the back of her fingers traveled down his forearm. 

His head felt warm and a little fuzzy. "Listen, T'Pol. I don't think you should do this. It hasn't been very long since you and Trip …."

Her hands moved from his and travelled along his jaw line. Her two fingers stroked his jaw lightly as his skin tingled where she came into contact with it. 

His eyes closed as he allowed his skin to be fondled. He'd been dying to have her touch him for months … years. His body began to lull itself into arousal. He opened his eyes and realized she was watching him contently. 

He leaned over and placed his lips on hers, gently. His lips pursed on hers as the two locked eyes. He half-expected her to reach around and pinch his neck, knocking him out. Instead, she looked calm and serene. Her mouth parted, allowing his tongue to roll against hers. As their kiss deepened, Archer let out a groan into her throat. He pulled back and said, "I don't think we should do this."

"Why? Do you not wish to?" she asked. 

"No. That's not it. I just wonder if it's too fast for you," he whispered, pressing his mouth to her neck.

She nipped at his lips and wrapped her hands around the collar of his shirt, pulling him on top of her as she reclined on the couch. Her mouth nibbled on his throat, taking his skin lightly between her teeth. He moaned at the sensation, and grabbed her closer to him, scooting her down the couch. He hovered over her, and his kisses became more passionate and less afraid. His mouth met hers hungrily, like it was starving. He traced his tongue along her ear, suckling the point. He took her earlobe in his teeth and gently gnawed as he whispered, "Tell me if you want me to stop."

In response, she began to unbutton his shirt. She easily freed each button and splayed open his shirt to feel his chest. Her hand skimmed over his chest hair and smoothed his skin until it reached his taut stomach.

His mouth ravished hers with small pants, encouraging her to explore his skin. He traced his thumb down her breastplate and nervously brushed it against her breast. She arched into his caress pushing her hips into his. Their movements became more heated, and Archer began to feel like a teenager making out. His head was literally swimming in her. He pushed himself off of her in a daze and grabbed her hand. He whispered, "Come here."

She sat up and attempted to right her outfit. As soon as she stood, he gathered her in his arms and walked into the bedroom. He placed her gingerly on the bed and then slipped out of his open shirt. He unsnapped his watch and placed it on the bedside table, removed his wallet from his pants pocket and kicked off his shoes. 

T'Pol reclined back and stared up at him. When their eyes met, Archer asked again, trying to take the eagerness and passion out of his voice. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She watched him without blinking, and said, "Is it not what you want?"

He lay down on the bed next to her and said, "I've been wanting this for a while. I just think if we continue much more, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

She positioned her mouth on his chest and began to kiss a trail between his ribcage. He huffed at the feeling of her lips. He worked her out of her clothing and gazed at her Starfleet regulation briefs that clung to her. His mouth roamed around her navel. After suckling it, he asked, "So, what happens after tonight?"

She leaned back on a pillow and said, "I do not know."

"Do you still love Trip?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer, hovering over her.

"Vulcans are incapable of love. But, yes, I still have deep feelings for him."

Archer's lips inverted into a frown. He lay down beside her and glided his index finger down her throat. "So, then … what's this all about?"

"You desire me," she said. "I feel desire for you."

He kissed her lips tenderly. "Just desire?"

"You seem to feel more than just … lust for me," she countered, taking his lips in hers.

He smirked against her lips and broke apart from her embrace. "I do feel more for you. I guess what I meant is, do you only feel desire for me. Nothing else?" His lips traced down her neck.

"I feel friendship. Trust. Respect. Admiration," she responded.

He put his head back on the pillow and gazed into her eyes. He traced the point of her ear with his fingers, tucking a piece of hair behind one. "Friendship and lust, huh?" he clarified, forlornly. "What you feel for Trip is deeper?"

She nuzzled her head into his caress. "Yes." 

He knew it was too soon. He knew it was too good to be true. He swallowed deeply and asked, "You want to feel desired?"

She furrowed her eyebrows at him and took his palm to her mouth and lightly tapped her lips against it. "Yes," she confessed. "I know it is illogical. And yet I have been unable to shed this feeling." She looked away and wondered aloud, "I apologize. I am unsure what I was thinking."

He stalked over her abdomen and kissed up her stomach. He whispered, "Do you want to feel cared for? Loved? Adored?"

She was silent, unable to answer. She could only give a slight nod.

He thought that if she wanted to feel desired, he could do it. The fact that she considered him a friend was pretty good, all in all. He figured lust and friendship eventually could lead to love. He could give her what she wanted now. He wanted to. He'd been wanting, aching, to give himself to her for sometime. So, she didn't exactly return his feelings; so what? He already knew it. He turned to her with searing passion and brushed his nose against her grey tank, raising it up.

"I've always thought you were beautiful, exotic, sexy," he said, kissing up her torso while pushing her tank from her body. She wrapped her fingers around the material and drew it over her head. The material seemed to glide up her body.

She was beginning to feel a little drunk on his emotions; lust was eking out of his every pore. He continued, exploring her body with his mouth, "I've always thought you were intelligent. Sophisticated. I've always admired you." He teased her lips and cajoled her tongue. His mouth watered for her, like he was biting into a plum. He panted into her mouth as he explored her body with his hands.

His teeth gently bit at her throat. He whispered, "I _do _want you. I've wanted you for more than a year." His mouth left a string of kisses down her torso. His breath was tickling her breast as his lips nipped at it. 

"I _do _adore you, T'Pol," he said, his fingers searched for hers; his tongue excited her skin. 

He suckled at her breast and said hoarsely, "I've been thinking about you … about this, fantasizing about it." His two fingers stroked hers as she had done to him earlier, winding around them.

She felt like she was on sensory overload. His emotions were barely kept at bay. With every movement he initiated, he became more excited and desperate. Hearing his confessions were tantalizing.

His mouth met hers with stunning impact. She gasped slightly, taking him into her arms slowly. His emotions battered against hers, his lips enticing her to capitulate. His mouth was unstoppable, begging her to give in. His lips moved quicker and with more force. His breath was ragged and his moaning was deep and low. His knee pushed her legs apart gently, but dominantly.

He removed his fingers from their Vulcan embrace and ran them up her arm, down her breast and toward her knee. He looked down at her as she trembled at his touch. His breathing was raspier and more wanton. He ran his two fingers up her thigh. "I've been in love with you for years. I'm still in love with you," he admitted as she began to writhe under him. 

His lips doggedly captured hers. His tongue pushed into her mouth as she let free a soft moan. And she surrendered.


	2. Change of Hearts part two

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part two 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five 

Chapter Eight 

Sunlight was already filling into the bedroom nd spilling into her eyes. She cracked them open and peered into the sunlight. She discovered Jonathan was watching her. 

"Hey," he said.

"Good morning," she responded. 

He gave a lop-sided smile and drew the covers up around her. "You cold?"

"No," she responded.

She gazed at him, unblinkingly. He leaned over and gave her a kiss. She retreated slightly at his breath. This was one thing that was difficult for her – human's breath in the morning. Charles' was just as bad.

He gave a half-grin and stroked her hair. "Today I thought we'd head to Yosemite. I booked a couple of rooms already. It's in a lodge – one I used to visit as a kid. I think you'll like it."

"Jonathan, you knew how I felt about you, and yet you persisted last night …." She was confused. Humans were largely illogical, if not mostly endearing.

He half-kidded, "I can handle how you feel about me." He didn't really want to dwell on it. If he was truthful it hurt. A lot. But, he figured she'd come around eventually. He didn't want to give up on her and let someone else into her life. He'd already done that once – and he deemed it a major catastrophe.

She didn't need to ask, but felt it necessary. "Did you mean those things you said to me?"

He looked her in the eye and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "Yes."

She felt the need to clarify, "All of them?"

"Yes," he said. He kissed the tip of her nose and reiterated, "All of them."

She stared at him, wondering what he was thinking when he gave her a peck on the cheek and said, "We gotta get going. It takes about an hour to get to Yosemite, and we need to get checked in and everything before we go on that hike."

He stood up and headed for the bathroom. She looked over his pale skin and muscular body. He was much broader than Trip – larger hips and broader shoulders, with thicker legs and arms. But, she enjoyed his physique. He wasn't overweight; he was in fact still thinner than when she first met him. He was oblivious to her reflections, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door. She heard the commode flush, the faucet run, his toothbrush buzz and the shower nozzle start up. After the water had run for a minute, he poked his head out from behind the door and said, "You coming?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Where?"

"Here," he grinned.

She raised an eyebrow and headed tentatively into the bathroom. He stepped into the shower and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her in with him. He gazed into her eyes, maneuvering her against the shower wall. He ducked down to kiss her; his lips tasted like peppermint, as he nibbled at her mouth.

She felt somewhat awkward, wondering about his movements and intentions. She felt his arms encircle her. She skeptically titled her head up at him, noticing his teeth were spreading across his face.

He leaned back into the shower and wet his hair, lathered it up and rinsed it off. After he did that, he took the bar of soap in his hands and lathered them up.

"Do you wash yourself with your hands?" she asked – stoically appalled. 

He chuckled, "Sometimes. But, I was going to wash _you_ with my hands." He massaged her back and soaped-up her shoulders. He kissed down her neck as he let his fingers wander aimlessly around her body. Meandering on a shoulder blade, strolling across her clavicle, lurking around her navel and twisting around her buttocks. 

He dragged her calmly into the stream of water and ran her hair under it. He squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his palm and ran his fingers through her hair. "Close your eyes," he said as he began to work the lather up on her scalp. 

She shivered at his touch. The whole endeavor seemed satisfying. He nudged her under the water to wash the lather away. He led her away from the spray and kissed her again. She wiped the water from her eyes. He grinned merrily and stooped under the faucet, hastily scrubbing himself up and rinsing off. He turned his head and noticed she was scrutinizing his every move. He leaned against her, touching his forehead to hers.

He whispered, "You want to feel desired again?"

She withdrew slightly from him and mentioned softly, "That is unnecessary."

His mouth slid along her ear as he said, "You want some privacy?"

She hesitated which provoked him to grab her lips with his. She broke off their embrace and mumbled, "Yes … privacy."

He winked and gave her a small kiss on the lips. He turned and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and began to dry himself off. He fluffed his hair, causing the strands to stick up helter skelter, then rubbed at the rest of his body. He wrapped it around his waist, dragged a comb across his hair and wiped the mirror with a hand towel, conspicuously tossed near the sink.

He squirted shaving cream onto his fingers and massaged it onto his face. He began to shave, occasionally dabbing at the mirror to see his reflection. To T'Pol's near-amusement, he sang to himself as he did so. It started off as a hum as she heard the blade drag across his face. Then it turned into a full-throttled echo as he made flourishes with his razor, singing pieces that he knew of the Magic Flute mumbled in a language he didn't quite understand.

She stuck her head out of the shower and raised an unsettled eyebrow at him. He noticed her intrusive stare and beamed. 

"Something wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Your voice is quite pleasing, yet …."

He interrupted and added in a bass voice, "Well, thank you."

She saw the twinkle in his eye and decided against correcting his assessment. She continued to let the water spray onto her face and body, wondering how why she had begun a relationship … whatever this was … with Jonathan. 'Illogical. UnVulcan. Emotional,' she chided herself sternly.

Archer changed into some clothes and brought her bags into his bedroom. He riffled through his linens and placed a towel out for her. He then toddled into the living room to order some groceries since they were running late. 

As she strolled out of the bathroom, Archer was already putting away the groceries that had just arrived. He was busily making vegan nutragrain pancakes and bacon (for himself) as she entered the living room. He pointed to a plate and said, "Look okay?"

Her interest was piqued. She leaned over to smell it, noting it was completely free of animal products, including butter, which she knew he was fond of. She looked up at Archer approvingly and said, "It looks appetizing."

He flipped a pan in the air, sending the flapjack end over end. He grinned boyishly and said, "Bet you didn't know I could cook, did you?"

She raised her eyebrow and said, "Indeed. I would not have hypothesized. However, I doubt I would wager on that fact."

He smiled at her joke and said, "Want to set the table?"

She looked at him with inadequacy. "And how would I do that?"

He turned off the stove. Being a bachelor, he had mismatching silverware and no real placemats to speak of. He mentioned, pointing with a spatula, "The plates are over there. And the silverware is over here," he said.

She gathered everything and put it on the table. She was well aware of Earth customs, and even knew the side each utensil belonged on. After she set the table she looked around for the napkins. He shrugged, "We can make do with those," he said nodding to the towel-like things attached to the wall.

He brought her a mug of chamomile tea and sat down with a cup of coffee. He held the pancake plate in front of her. "Help yourself," he said, nabbing a few strips of bacon with his bare hands.

She bit into the breakfast and determined he was not an excellent cook, but was not awful either. He definitely put effort into the meal – knowing her preferences in tea and selecting a vegan meal. She bit into one and noticed Archer out of the corner of her eye, waiting for something.

"These are … quite edible," she said placing another forkful in her mouth.

"High praise indeed." He took a forkful and decided it was a culinary masterpiece. "Need syrup?" 

She noted the jar he held in front of him. "Is syrup a sugar-based product?" she asked. 

He leaned in, "Yes."

"Then, I do not wish any," she answered back.

He scooted into the table and said, "You don't know what you're missing, T'Pol." His mouth overtook a forkful. 

"A food by-product with no nutritional value?"

"Exactly," Archer said, his lips tugging up toward his eyes. 

"I will have to trust your judgment," she countered.

"It's about time you did," he chided, trying to eat as quickly as possible. He looked up at the chronometer and noticed they were already running behind. He decided to let the captainy, anal side of his personality slide and enjoy himself … even if he was 23 minutes behind schedule.

Chapter Nine 

Archer rented a shuttle pod and piloted it from San Francisco to Yosemite. Approximately 10 minutes before their arrival, he looked over at T'Pol intermittently who seemed unusually silent. 

"Looking forward to this?" he asked, beaming.

"I am neither looking forward to it, nor am I dreading it. I will be pleased to see the place you visited as a boy," she said. "And you have indicated the view is quite appealing."

He looked over to her and grinned. "Well, it's been a while, but I still think you'll like it. There are a few waterfalls I'd like to take you to – Yosemite Falls is my favorite. We can do some hiking. Hang around the lodge. That sound good?" he asked, taking them into a final approach to the lodge.

"Of course," she said, drawing her knees against her chin. 

Archer smiled at her Vulcanly eagerness and took the shuttle for a final ascent at the Ahwahnee. As he landed the shuttle, he saw T'Pol's eyes marvel at the Native American lodge. She gazed over the stone faces and the deep wood set amongst the large trees and white rock. 

After landing, Archer hopped up to get their bags. She stretched her legs out and noticed the building with appreciation. "I have not seen a building this old before."

He smirked, throwing a duffle bag over his shoulder. "I think it was built in the early 20th century."

"Fascinating," she whispered. He threw a few more bags over his shoulder and saw her continuing to look up in awe. "You feel like giving me a hand? You know, you are the stronger one of the two of us," he kidded. 

She raised her eyebrows with a hint of amusement. "Of course." She picked up a few bags and tossed them effortlessly over her shoulder. She walked toward the entrance dazed by the beauty of the lodge. 

Archer trailed behind her, struggling slightly, lugging a few more bags. As they neared the main door, the bellhop stared at T'Pol. At first, Archer thought the stare was appreciation for her good looks, then he realized few Earthlings had seen a Vulcan up-close, especially here. Most Vulcans kept to themselves, rarely coming out for interviews, discussion forums or anything else where there were humans. It reminded him of how far his relationship with T'Pol had come, and how his perceptions had changed in three short years.

The bellboy finally gathered himself enough to ask, "Do you need help with these?"

Archer looked somewhat relieved and said, "Yes," as T'Pol continued at a normal stride, waving off, "No, thank you."

He looked at Archer expectantly, as the captain rolled his eyes at T'Pol and said, "Yes." He placed his bags on the floating platform. 

The bellboy said, "You two have a reservation?" He stammered, trying to collect himself, "I mean two reservations. One for each of you. I mean …."

Archer gave a lopsided smile at the teenager's obvious faux pas and responded, "We have two reservations under Archer."

The bellboy nodded and floated the bags into the main lobby. As they entered, T'Pol stared up at the dead animals that lined the hallway. The moose were easily twice her size. A stuffed bear was in a semi-halting pose, standing almost 6'5".

T'Pol turned to Archer. "Why are dead animals on display? Is this meat for their restaurant?"

Archer chuckled, "No, humans used to hunt animals for … fun."

"And did not eat the animal?" she clarified.

"Seems strange now, but … I guess it was a thrill back in the 20th century." 

Archer rested his arm on the ledge and waited for the front desk to check them in. A man in his mid-forties lumbered behind the desk and turned to Archer with a smile. The man's eyes immediately noticed the closeness between the two. T'Pol's back faced the desk as she continued to stare up at the bear, looming over her. 

"Newly weds?" asked the man, watching Archer's fascination with her. 

Archer raised his eyebrows and disagreed, "No. We're …." He thought about their relationship and decided to go with "friends."

As T'Pol turned around, the man behind the desk obviously recognized his mistake and her lineage. "I'm sorry," he said to both of them like he'd made a critical error. "I didn't realize she was Vulcan. I've never … I haven't ever really seen one." 

T'Pol raised her eyebrows and questioned, trying to make small talk, "Is it what you expected?"

The man furrowed his brow, trying to decide if he was supposed to laugh, or whether she was really asking a question.

Archer smirked at T'Pol. "Is it too early to check in?"

"Not at all," he replied. He tapped a few buttons on his console. 

He weighed whether to ask for two reservations or one, when Archer turned his back and asked T'Pol, "I made this under two reservations. That okay?"

The man's eyes widened, wondering whether they were intimate. 

T'Pol walked back toward the desk and said, "Certainly."

Archer put his arm around her waist, as if to answer the desk clerk's question. The man stammered wildly, "You'll … ah … be in 402 and 404. They're … ah … right across the hall from each other. I assume … that's … er … that's satisfactory?" 

"Sounds great," answered Archer. For some reason he felt obligated to let them know he _was_ intimate with this woman. He put his lips briefly to hers and said, "You ready?"

She raised a wary eyebrow, wondering about his fascination with public displays of affection and murmured, "Of course."

The bellboy tagged along nervously. The gangly young man took the couple in a small elevator that looked like something out of the 20th century. 

He stopped at T'Pol's room first as they identified her bags. Archer then stopped at his room and dropped his stuff off. As he settled with the bellboy, she leisurely walked around her room. The fireplace was very small, but the room was well furnished. She laid herself on the bed and kicked off her shoes, stretching out against the cotton fabric of the bedspread. 

Archer peeked inside her room with a single knock. "No sleeping. We're going to go hiking around the waterfalls."

She sat up and stared into his eyes. "It was generous of you to arrange this."

"I'm glad you could come," he confessed, leaning in the doorway.

She glanced around the room, noticing the simple elegance of it. She noticed the view included a large and graceful waterfall colliding brilliantly into the rocks below it. She perked up, "What is that?"

"Yosemite Falls," he explained. "That's where we're going hiking. If you want."

She understood why he loved this park so much. It was impressive – large rock faces, rugged terrain and sweeping waterfalls. She thought about the inquisitive nature of the people at the hotel and asked, "Why did you agree to two rooms?"

He shrugged, "I'd already booked ahead. Besides, I thought you might want some privacy." He walked into her room, sat down on her bed and stroked her cheek. She leaned into his caress. 

"Thoughtful," she acquiesced. 

His lips pressed up against hers. She sought them out, parting his lips with her tongue. After they kissed for a few minutes, he broke away trying to catch his breath. He said, "We don't have that much daylight left. Do you want to stay in here for the rest of the day?"

She furrowed her brow. How could she want this man so badly? It was completely illogical. Her deep feelings were with Charles, not him. Yes, her desire for Jonathan was almost embarrassing. Perhaps she … enjoyed the way he made her feel – loved, wanted and adored. 

She backed away and looked toward the floor. "I apologize …."

"Why?" he asked. He spread his fingers and intertwined them in her hair.

"I am deterring us from your plans," she mentioned. 

He chuckled and said, "I'm not married to them. Curling up with you in front of the fire sounds pretty darned pleasant."

His lips nibbled at hers and he pushed her gently onto the bed. After a few moments of kissing and heavy petting, Archer sat up and said hoarsely, "Let me start a fire."

"It is not that cold in here," she countered. 

"Fires are romantic," he said, keeping to his mission. He gathered a couple of logs and tossed them into the grate. 

She watched as he threw some kindling on the fire and worked with a match to get it started. The flames began to crackle and sizzle the wood. The room filled with a hickory smell that to T'Pol was almost overpowering. She coughed lightly, but saw Jonathan hold the burning logs in his gaze. She pushed up the back of his shirt, kissing his back. As she worked his shirt off, she noticed a small scar around his right shoulder. 'The Skagarans,' she thought, suckling his skin. 

"T'Pol, I don't mean to be insensitive, but I've been wondering how …." He looked a little sheepish and continued, "I've been wondering how Vulcans mate."

She pulled him to her as she reclined against the bed. "It is not dissimilar to how humans mate."

"Not dissimilar, but … different?" he asserted.

"Yes."

"Tell me," he requested, nipping at her earlobes, which he'd already gathered she enjoyed.

"Vulcans meditate for hours before performing this intimate act. It can be violent during certain times. And our minds touch, reaching out for each other."

"Your minds touch? This is the second time you've talked about that."

"It is an important Vulcan tradition," she responded. "Two minds merging as one. The physical act of unity does not have the same … passionate overtones to Vulcans as it does to humans. Mating is primarily an act of mental unity and procreation."

He thought about Trip's flippant intimation that T'Pol was a quiet lover. His arms swallowed her as he clarified, "The physical act itself can be unity … at least to humans."

"Interesting," she responded.

He asked darkly, becoming aroused. "Can we share thoughts?"

"Perhaps we _could. But, I prefer not to," she said. She could tell the confusion in his eyes and added, "It is extremely intimate."_

He wanted to ask if she and Trip had exchanged thoughts, but already knew the answer. She had mentioned that her mind and Trip's had merged. 

She confessed, "I can tell this bothers you."

"I'm not sure what mingling thoughts would be like. I just don't like that Trip beat me to the punch."

Hearing Charles' name threw a wet blanket on her lust. She sat up and took a deep breath. 

Archer put his hand through his hair. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"It is of no consequence," she offered.

He scratched his head. "I'm a jerk. I don't know what I was thinking," he admitted. "Come here," he said holding her to him. He kissed her temple and said, "Exchanging thoughts isn't really important. Being here with you is." He let a few beats pass and continued, "You felt so good last night. Having you in my arms felt … feels amazing."

She gazed up into his eyes. He looked down at her with a smile.

She reached up to kiss his lips tenderly. He whispered, "You want to go hiking?"

"Perhaps tomorrow," she whispered, dragging him to the bed on top of her.

His mouth covered hers as he began to work her shirt off.

Chapter Ten 

The two had dinner at the lodge, drawing more stares and confusion from the patrons and staff. Archer held her hand on top of the table, for a few moments at a time, but T'Pol eventually pulled it back. He decided not to press his luck, knowing Vulcans preferred not to touch people.

He'd had almost four glasses of wine, and felt a little inebriated. He walked clumsily over to the fire and sat down in front of it. He noticed very few patrons in the area and sighed deeply. The fire was enormous, almost six feet tall. Practically every five minutes someone who worked for the hotel would come by and stoke it, stirring up the sparks and a deep smell of burning wood. 

Archer laid his head back and stared at the ceiling, leaving T'Pol to her own musings. She seemed like a mix between amused and annoyed at his intoxication. After about fifteen minutes, he stroked her cheek and questioned, "You sorry you came with me?"

"Not thus far," she retorted. Archer knew she had a dry sense of humor and smirked at her response. 

He took her legs and swung them into his lap and took her shoes off. She began to protest, but was afraid he'd get overly noisy, shooing her hands away. Even though the patrons had left upon seeing the two, the hotel staff was readily available.

He worked on the soles of her feet with his hands with profound concentration. As he continued silently, she pondered Archer. As a captain, he could be driven, sometimes cold and distant. He could also be charming and moody. As a companion, he was chatty and sought her approval. His sense of humor seemed boyish and playful.

"You know, my dad loved this place. Last time I came here with him was when I was about 16 or so," he said somewhat out of the blue.

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah. We sat here in front of the fire and read." He chuckled lightly. "I even remember the book he was reading – _I, Robot."_

"Isaac Asimov?"

"Yes," he responded, wiggling her toes between his hands. He kneaded her feet and added, "I brought the book with me on the PADD."

"Then, you should read it," she encouraged.

"Did you bring anything?" he asked. 

"I did. But, I would prefer to tend to my thoughts."

He nodded, knowing that meant she wanted to think about things between her and Trip. He knew that would be on her mind … rightly so. But, he couldn't take her thinking about him. His mind fixated on the possibility that while he took her to bed, she thought of him. That musing stabbed at his heart and gnawed at his stomach. 

"Want me to get you anything?" he asked.

"No. It is unnecessary."

He massaged her feet for a few moments in silence, as he noticed her eyes begin to close. 

"You haven't really said anything about us … together," he mentioned softly. 

She opened her eyes, slowly. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. I guess I want to know how I make you feel," he said, unsure of his voice.

She withdrew her feet from his lap and took his hand in hers. "Desired," she whispered.

His hands rubbed against his thighs with nervousness as he said, "I was serious about what I said last night."

She brushed her hand though his hair. "I know."

He leaned his elbows onto his knees and stared into the fire. He wasn't sure how much more plain he could be with her. For some reason, he thought she would admit she loved him, too. It was a stupid idea. She was obviously crazy about Trip. He wasn't sure why she let him wrap his arms around her, kiss her, love her so intensely. His heart sagged a little just thinking about the situation he was in. He was foolish to jump right in, give himself over to her completely and eagerly. He thought maybe one day she'd wake up and realize she was really mad about him, but guessed he was only deluding himself. 

Delusion or no, his body revelled in her. It was like they were a jigsaw of two matched pieces, fitting perfectly together without any force or guile.

Looking at his expression, she could tell he was waiting for something else from her. She pondered wondering what else he might need. After stroking his hair for a moment, she began to collect a few thoughts from him. His love for her was almost like the ocean – deep and seemingly never-ending. It was sometimes tumultuous; he was a moody man. But, in the end the water was peaceful, still and quenching. She ran her hand against his cool cheek, despite his proximity to the fire.

He looked deep into her eyes. He was a confident man, but she managed to suck the self-assuredness from him. She opened her mouth, leaning against him. Her breath tickled his ear. "You are a dear friend and someone who showers with me unending affection," she whispered. She played with his earlobe and added, "And you are an excellent lover."

Maybe it was his intoxication that made him feel so insecure. Maybe it was acknowledging she'd be thinking about his pal Trip. He took her hand to his mouth and kissed it. 

He stared into the fire and tried to shake the dark clouds that were beginning to lurk in his mind. Dear friend. 'Well, it is what it is,' he concluded. 

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was thinking and decided he was pondering something important. His face bore the same concentration he had on the bridge.

"I'll be right back," he said. He got up and shuffled back to his room. 

As T'Pol watched his drunken movements, she pursed her lips together. She closed her eyes and drew up her thoughts about Charles. As her feelings began to come to the surface about him, she likened him to a volcano. He was fiery, with exploding passion. Perhaps in the end, he lacked the depth and finesse she wanted in a mate. But, he more than made up for it with his humor and amiability. But, somehow the strength of his love seemed fleeting. After four months of an otherwise good relationship, he chose to end it. She could not fathom why.

She took her legs in her hands and curled up, ruminating about the end of her affair with the engineer. She opened her eyes as Archer collapsed back on the couch with a PADD of _I, Robot. _

He greedily grinned at the shimmering green screen and settled his head against T'Pol's knee, nuzzling it. She smoothed his hair absent-mindedly, continuing to churn her thoughts over and over.

After an hour of light meditation, her mind drowned out the thoughts of Enterprise. A strange sound emanated from Archer, when she realized he had fallen asleep on her and was snoring quietly. 

She softly nudged him as he snorted to life. His hand curled up into a tight ball as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. She leaned against him and said, "I am going to bed. Would you like to come upstairs now?"

He groggily nodded his head as he attempted to stand -- one failure and one success. He croaked, "I'm so tired. I'm sorry I fell asleep."

She stood and wrapped her hand in his. "It has been a long day. And you _are _on vacation."

He said out of the blue, as if in a dream-like state, "I'm glad I didn't lose you in the Expanse."

She raised an eyebrow and let him lean on her as they made their way upstairs. "I know. I am also glad you were unharmed. Although I was concerned you would not be … whole when you returned." 

"I feel pretty whole," he joked.

She walked to the elevator and punched the button for the fourth floor. 

He admitted, "I didn't think anyone had noticed that I wasn't myself."

"I noticed," she explained.

"You didn't say anything," he commented.

"I assumed you were brooding," she retorted.

"Do I do that?" he asked, sleepily, but knowing he didn't want to have that negative trait.

"Yes," she said definitively. 

She looked at both rooms and asked, "Would you like to be alone?"

"No, I'd like to sleep with you," he said. "If you're okay with it."

She was about to open her mouth when he interrupted, "Just sleep. I just want to be with you."

"I was not going to object," she said. 

She opened the door to her room and he fell onto the bed. He slipped his shoes, socks, pants and shirt off and slid underneath the covers. T'Pol changed into her pajamas and crawled under the sheets. As she did, Archer scooted near her, spooning her.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he said sleepily.

Sweetheart? She raised her eyebrow and replied, "Pleasant dreams, Jonathan."

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	3. Change of Hearts part three

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part three 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five 

Chapter Eleven 

Archer woke up to hear the shower running. He stretched out. He felt a little hung over – not the head pounding kind, just sluggish. 

T'Pol stepped out of the bathroom draped in a towel. She saw he was stirring and walked over. 

"Good morning," she said. 

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Hey."

"I am almost finished. Would you like me to bring you a coffee with cream?" she asked. 

He yawned and stretched out. "Yeah. That sounds great." He dragged his hand across his head, further rumpling his hair. 

"Very well," she said. She changed into her clothes, as she noticed Archer sleepily watching her dress. He propped his hands behind his head and stared on. She was gorgeous and lithe. She turned her head and saw his widening grin. 

She finished stepping into her clothes when he grinned. "That's a sight I could wake up to every morning."

She admonished him with a single eyebrow, shooting into her bangs.

He chuckled at the nonverbal scolding. "I will be back in a moment," she responded.

"I'll probably be in my room showering – all my bags are in there."

She nodded and clasped her hands behind her back.

He curled his finger up and beckoned, "Come here."

She walked over to the bed. "Yes?"

"No, all the way here," he said taking her hand and urging her to sit down.

She sat down and asked again, "Yes?"

He smiled and said, "Your collar is a little catawampus." He straightened it and beamed at her.

"Thank you," she replied.

He took her hand to his heart, flattening it against his chest and held it there for a moment, looking at her in adoration. His breathing was slow and even, and he said after a few beats, "I love you, T'Pol of Vulcan. I'm pretty sure I always will."

She opened her mouth and he interrupted, "You don't need to say anything."

"Jonathan …."

He raised his eyebrows, "You gonna get my coffee?"

She kissed him quickly on the lips and got up, walking out the door. She wandered down the corridor, into the elevator and toward the restaurant. It was fairly early, but had plenty of hotel guests. She knew very little of human customs regarding these matters. She wandered up to a lectern and asked, "I would like some coffee and tea. Can you help me?"

The young woman twisted her blonde hair and stared at the Vulcan, dropping her jaw. "Are you a Vulcan?" she asked with interest. 

T'Pol, although stoic, was growing weary of this conversation already. "I am. Are you able to answer my question?"

"Sure, I can help you," she said. "Are you staying at the hotel?"

"Yes. Room 402," she responded.

The woman nodded and said, "Cream and sugar?"

"Cream in the coffee only, no sugar in either. Thank you."

The woman nodded and wandered off. T'Pol straightened her spine with discomfort and watched the people walking in for breakfast. Each one stared at her, as if they'd never seen an alien. She stared up at the ceiling, hoping the young woman would come as quickly as possible. After a few minutes, T'Pol was getting downright antsy. The woman was chatting with a friend at the back of the restaurant and pointing.

T'Pol turned her back, hoping they would come. Perhaps sending Jonathan would have been more appropriate …. At the very least it would be less conspicuous. 

A red-haired woman with freckles grinned stupidly at her. "Darla said you wanted some coffee. Do you drink coffee?"

"No, I drink tea. The coffee is for my … friend," corrected the Vulcan.

She handed T'Pol a mug and said, "Oh. I'll check on the tea." 

T'Pol's patience was wearing thin. She continued to watch on as patrons gawked, pointed and guffawed. She caught a snippet of a conversation a man was having, presumably with his spouse. "I never thought they would come here," he whispered.

She turned to him and said flatly, "I enjoy nature, geology, hiking and other pursuits. I also have excellent hearing."

The man was stunned and sputtered out, "How rude," as he walked into the room. She heard his wife mutter, "Vulcans."

When the blonde came back with the red head with a small pot of coffee, T'Pol felt exasperated. "I cannot carry this pot, this cup and the coffee cup. A tray might be helpful."

"You don't have to be so testy. God," said the red head. She handed T'Pol a tray and threw out, sarcastically, "Have a nice day."

T'Pol placed each of the items on the tray and began to walk toward the elevator. As she did, she heard more snippets of conversations and mumblings and saw more people react to her appearance.

She saw the bellboy from across the hall. The young man walked quickly over to her and held the door. "You need help with that, ma'am?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I would appreciate your assistance."

"Be happy to," he responded joyfully. He let her in, strode in himself and took the tray from her. 

"You know, you shouldn't take the way people are responding to you personally, ma'am. Seeing a Vulcan around these parts is pretty rare. Especially one travelling alone … or with a human," he said.

"I understand. I appreciate your concern and help."

"You bet," he said with a smile. They walked off the elevator and she asked him to set it down on a table. 

The young man did so, and hung around expectantly for a moment. T'Pol wondered why he was continuing to loaf around and said, "Thank you for your help."

He coughed and nodded. "If you and your boyfriend want to take a tour on horseback, they have something at 3:00 p.m. It goes until around 5:30 … you know when it gets dark."

She raised her eyebrow. Boyfriend?

"All right, you have a nice time. If you need anything you can ask for me – Eddie."

"Thank you … Eddie."

He smiled. Archer walked out of his room as Eddie gave him a quick grin and headed down the hall. 

Archer rubbed his hands together and said, "Oh, coffee. Thanks!" He took a deep sip and said, "Hope it wasn't too much trouble."

She decided not to spoil the illusion and said, "No."

He seemed to wake up a little just sipping the mug. "So, today I was thinking we could hike along the Yosemite Falls and walk around the Mariposa Grove."

She remained silent.

"You hungry?" he asked. "We could head down for breakfast."

She thought about her experience and declined. "I thought you brought extra food?" she added.

"Who wants a cereal bar when you can have fresh eggs, bacon and fried potatoes," he said licking his lips. He decided those things didn't sound particularly good to a Vulcan and suggested, "Come on, it won't kill ya."

He grabbed her hand and started making his way out the door and down the hall. She tried to object, but he seemed set on breakfast in the lodge. He walked downstairs and saw the same hostesses she had. 

The blonde saw he was holding T'Pol's hand. "Two for breakfast," he grinned, leaning up against the lectern.

She looked at the nearly empty restaurant and said, "I'm sorry. We're completely booked."

Archer furrowed his brow, looked in the restaurant and back at her. "I see several open tables."

The woman mentioned, "Reservations."

Archer seemed determined, counting more than twenty open tables. "You have more than twenty spots open. All of them can't be reserved, can they?"

"Yes," she said. She hesitatingly glanced up at the Vulcan and back down at her computer screen. 

Archer leaned over as she turned her monitor. He saw just enough to know she was lying. "I don't see twenty names here." His finger was pressed onto the top of the screen.

"Sir, I'm sorry."

Archer was trying to decide which method would work best – tough guy or charmer. It was a woman behind the counter so he decided to try the latter.

"Too bad, I was really looking forward to a lodge breakfast. When I was a kid, my father took me here and I had the best eggs I've ever had in my life." He saw she wasn't really buying it and laid it on a little thicker. "It was right over there in that booth by the waterfalls." He pointed at a vacant table.

She glanced up and he beamed, leaning in a little more. 

"You know, I think I had a waitress about … I don't know your age. Real pretty. She brought me a hot chocolate. I think she said she was going to USC at the time. You look like you're in college," he sweet-talked.

The woman smirked a little. "University of Southern Oregon. Your Vulcan friend here was a little abrupt with us this morning."

He turned and looked at T'Pol who seemed stoic. "I don't think she would be," he defended.

"She was," said the woman with irritation.

Something tickled and upset him thinking of her trying to understand human customs and failing miserably. He said, "I'm sorry. You know she hasn't been to many places on Earth. She was eager to come here."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. 

"She's been on Enterprise for about …."

He seemed to say the magic words. "Wait a minute. Are you from that ship that went into space to find the people that attacked Florida, Cuba and South America?" she asked.

He shrugged, "Well, yeah. I'm Captain Jonathan Archer and …."

"You're Captain Archer?!" she exclaimed looking almost giddy.

He looked at her nervously as she giggled, "Oh my God! No."

He furrowed his brow and pulled out his Starfleet ID. "Actually I am." Then he thought about the press if he mentioned T'Pol. He scratched his head. "This is a friend of mine from the Vulcan Consulate."

"Ambassador?" she asked. 

T'Pol commented, "I used to assist the ambassador. Yes." She continued, "I apologize for not understanding your customs."

"But, if you're an aide, wouldn't they prep you for these things?" she asked. "I'm a intergalactic affairs major."

Archer saw T'Pol open her mouth and decided to risk something stupid. "Actually Enterprise picked her up for a top secret mission. We're on assignment."

The woman leaned in and said with awe, "Really?"

Archer turned his back and looked hopefully at his companion. She raised her eyebrow higher on her head and remarked, "I do not know my orders yet."

Archer turned to the woman and nodded knowingly, giving a quick wink. 

"I have to tell my friends I met you, Mr. Archer," she said. "You do kinda look like your picture … but you seem a little older in person."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She grinned like a schoolgirl. "Right this way," she said, walking past all the tables to sit at the one he supposedly sat at as a boy. She handed two PADDs with the menu.

He said, "I really appreciate it."

She giggled and ran over to the red-haired waitress as they pointed and smiled. 

Archer waved, as T'Pol whispered, "I hope this breakfast was worth that display."

He said through his gritted teeth, "Me, too."

The two women finally walked off as Archer sank into his chair. He wrapped one hand around hers and said, "Were they rude to you?"

She said, "No. They were, however, not extraordinarily pleasant and their service was slow."

He took her hand to his lips. "I'm sorry."

"I hypothesize most of the people here have never seen a Vulcan." She glanced around the room and noticed stares. "I would assume they have never seen a Vulcan and human couple either."

Archer grinned, "Are we a couple?"

"The bellboy referred to you as my 'boyfriend,'" she said.

He laughed whimsically. "I hope you didn't set him straight."

"Of course not," she returned.

He grinned tremendously, letting it absorb his entire face. He leaned over and gave her a small peck on the lips, which she tolerated despite the public nature. As he sat back in his chair, he could see she was slightly uncomfortable with the display.

"You're not embarrassed of me, are you?" he teased.

"Of course not. However, you seem to enjoy displaying your affection in public," she commented, softly.

"Does it bother you?" he asked.

She looked away trying to assess her thoughts. "It concerns me. Vulcans are intimate only in private."

He drank his water that was already set on the table. "I'm showing affection because I want to show you how I feel in the moment. I'll try and be more thoughtful of your … feelings … if you accommodate me once in a while."

"Seems agreeable," she concluded.

"Good," he said. He stared at the PADD left on the table and already knew what he wanted – the American breakfast: two eggs, two strips of country bacon and hash browns with a choice of cornbread or toast with a glass of orange juice.

T'Pol glanced over the menu. "What would you recommend? I do not recognize many of these items." 

He read through the menu and saw the continental breakfast as an option, but decided the oatmeal might be the best option. "Oatmeal," he recommended. "Maybe you'd like it with," he screwed up his face in disgust, "raisins or honey."

The waitress came as they chatted about the Xindi and space in general. Archer didn't really want to talk about the Xindi, but felt he'd opened the door. He diverted the conversation, ordering for the two of them. Luckily, she came out with another coffee, filling his cup. He took in the aroma and took a sip. 

She looked at the cup curiously. "Like some?" he asked.

She decided she'd try it. After all, she had been on board for years without venturing to taste it. She put it to her lips and noticed the strong smell. 'Jonathan smells a little like this,' she thought as she took a sip. 

Her eyebrows reached for her bangs as her throat almost instantly gagged at the taste. The taste was extremely bitter. 

He chuckled as she put down the mug. She eyed his laughter and said, "Remind me to feed you something called pay'ranath."

He chuckled boyishly and said, "What's that?"

"It is a spice on Vulcan."

"Is it hot?" he asked.

"I do not believe hot is the appropriate word," she countered sipping her tea. 

He felt the urge to take his lips to hers and fought it. Instead, he stared into her eyes and noticed the shimmer behind them. He decided to ask, dangerously. "So, _am _I your boyfriend?"

She took a deep breath and said, "I understand the term. But, I am unfamiliar with the idea. Could you explain?"

He took a deep breath. "Boyfriend is someone who is … more intimate than a friend, but not quite your spouse."

"Then, yes, I would say you are my boyfriend," she agreed.

He took a sip of his water and grew superficially serious. "You know there are traditions on my planet for this moment. In fact, the woman is required to …." 

She raised her eyebrow, as if to roll her eyes and interrupted. "I was … as I have heard some say … not born yesterday."

"No, you're kind of an older woman," he teased.

She afforded herself a small display of affection and caressed his cheek. "Wiser, more experienced … it seems these are traits you appreciate."

He chuckled, "I do."

Breakfast was put in front of them as he whispered to her, "You forgot beautiful, sexy, smart, stubborn …."

She looked at her oatmeal with Vulcan astonishment. "This is what was ordered for me?"

He turned his face down in regret. "Sorry, I thought you would want something grain based."

"It reminds me of sly'tanthia," she mentioned. "It is a grain served at celebrations, a delicacy."

"So, you're saying you like it?" he asked.

"Who would not?" she returned, digging in eagerly. 

Archer watched her eat it without sugar, honey or syrup and curled his lip. As she seemed to be enjoying her first tasteful, he decided not to offer condiments.

He stuck his fork into his over-easy eggs and grinned as the yolk dripped into his food. He scooped his fork into the food and raised it to his mouth. He hesitantly put it in and closed his eyes. "Damn, that's good."

"You are eating mostly meat, are you not? Meat from chicken, swine … and a fried starch?"

He grinned and held up his cornbread. "You forgot the other food group – bread."

T'Pol poured her raisins on her cereal and mentioned, "I will never understand dietary decisions made by humans. They have little nutritional value and seem high in fat."

Archer pointed his fork at her oatmeal. "Well, Vulcans like food that tastes like paste."

"You have eaten glue?" 

"Uhm, only as a child."

Chapter Twelve 

The two hiked to the top of Yosemite Falls. T'Pol walking at a normal pace up the steep trail, putting Archer into near cardiac arrest as they hiked higher and higher. When they reached the top, Archer drank heavily from his canteen. "It's hard work keeping up with you," he said between gulps. 

"I apologize," she said. "Why did you not ask me to slow my gait?"

He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. He shrugged and huffed, "Didn't want to give in."

"This is aesthetically pleasing," she mused. She stared out and saw the valley floor; it was littered with trees and white and yellow rock faces. Below her was an incredible waterfall, crashing into the rocks below. 

As Archer recovered, he spied something circling lazily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his binoculars and gazed into the heavens. 

He snapped them down to his waist and turned to T'Pol. He pointed at a tiny black speck. "See that?"

He gave her the zooming spectacles. She peered into them and asked, "What is it?"

"That's an eagle." The majestic bird had black wings and a white head, its wings flapped gracefully. 

"I have seen this bird once before at Yellowstone. Although, I did not have optical assistance."

"They used to not travel this far south. I can count on one hand the number of eagles I've seen." 

He smiled and urged the binoculars back in front of his eyes. His head followed its movement and he saw the bird head into a nest where two tiny eagle heads popped out. He chortled with glee, "Look at this!"

T'Pol strolled over, and when she was within grabbing distance he did so, drawing her next to him. He put the specs out before her and she looked in. 

"I do not see anything," she commented.

He walked behind her and put his hands on the binoculars, guiding them to the spot. "No, over here."

She looked into them and saw the vision. She continued calmly, "Is this rare?"

He encircled her waist. "Extremely."

She continued looking at the site. She understood why Archer was so impressed – with the park, with the view, with the birds. It was all breath taking. She handed the binoculars back and he stared into them again. He sighed with deep contentment.

She was touched he had arranged the trip, impressed with his choice of places to take her and moved by his feelings for her. She had promised little more than sex, and yet he was so giving with his emotions. She had not imagined him so gentle and his love so overwhelming. She knew Charles would be sensitive and eager to please her, but had no inkling that Jonathan was capable of this. She leaned back against his chest and stared out into the park. She could tell he had perspired, both by smell and feel, but didn't mind. 

Archer gave her back the binoculars. "You want to see the Mariposa Grove? Where we're going next?"

"Are we going right away?" she asked.

He chuckled, "No. Although I have a feeling you're ready to hike back down. I need to rest for a second. And, I thought maybe we'd have a snack." He steered her binoculars to the location.

"Ah, there are many trees there."

"Mariposa pines," he said, wiggling out of his backpack. He rummaged around for a couple of cereal bars. He ambled to the edge and sat down, swinging his feet out and placing his palms on the ground, looking into the sky, basking in the sunlight. 

She sat down on the ground, joining him. He took another swig of water and asked, "When were you in Yellowstone?"

"When I first arrived on Earth."

"That place is amazing," commented Archer. "I took a friend there and went backpacking for nearly a week. He was afraid we'd see some bears. On the way down – last day of the trip – we saw one in the far distance. The guy starts yelling and scares the animal half to death. He liked the outdoors, but could never really take the unexpected," he mused.

"Are you talking of Commander Tucker?" she inquired.

"Uhm, yeah," he said thoughtfully, losing a bit of his good mood. He bit into a cereal bar and looked at the ground for a moment.

"You may reminisce about him," she remarked. Her thoughts were filled with amusement, thinking Charles did indeed lose his head during some moments. She found that endearing about him.

He stared into her eyes, wondering what she was thinking. He decided not to dwell on it and lay on his back. He folded his arms behind his head and enjoyed the clouds moving slowly overhead. This was the life – being in the outdoors, getting enough exercise to get his heart pounding, being with a beautiful woman. Maybe this was worth fighting the Xindi for and sacrificing a bit of his soul. He wondered when he returned whether he'd be a hero, a saint or someone who was forgotten until the next catastrophe. Being with T'Pol, and away from people, he was lucky he didn't have the opportunity to find out. Admiral Forrest was handling all the press and inquires, which suited him just fine.

T'Pol lay down and asked, "What are you gazing at?"

"The sky. The clouds," he commented. "Feels good to be on earth … solid ground."

She twirled a lock of his hair in her fingers. He smiled and said, "Do you miss Vulcan?"

"I do not 'miss' it per se, but I do find it in my inner thoughts on many occasions."

"If we visited Vulcan together, where'd you take me?" he asked.

She pondered the thought and asked, "Are you thinking of going?"

He guffawed, "Well, I don't know. I was kinda just asking _if_ I were going to go, where you would take me."

"_If_ I took you, it would undoubtedly be difficult for you to breathe. The air is much thinner even than it is now, at this altitude, and the heat may be unbearable for you."

Archer reasserted, "Okay. Let's say I wanted to go to Vulcan and could tolerate the air and heat. Where would you take me?" He forgot how literal she could be at times.

"Well, _if you were planning a trip. And __if you were able to breathe the air and stand the heat, I would take you to the temples at Shi'Kar, assuming it was not during the Kolinahr."_

He smiled – finally. "What are they like?"

"They are much like the ones we saw on P'Jem, but larger. The sand-colored spires reach into the swirling red sky. Courtyards abound – we have a form of blooming cactus that produces a deep scarlet flower. This cactus is scattered through the courtyards and is quite fragrant. I would liken the smell to … cinnamon. In the middle of the main courtyard, a fountain flows freely in the center, somewhat of a wonder – Vulcan has little water. And the … monks … chant as the moons rise. They consider it a way to seek peace and non-emotion."

"I feel like I'm almost there. It sounds lovely," he commented.

"Yes, it is quite pleasing to look at. It was erected after the death of Surak – a living testament to his vision and dedication."

"I didn't realize Vulcan had two moons," he said, trying to picture the sight in his mind. 

"Actually, the planet has more, but the two moons are the most visible. During the zenith of the two moons' lunar cycle, the light there is so bright, it almost appears as day."

"Maybe you can take me there one day," he said wistfully.

"Perhaps," she mentioned. She grabbed a cereal bar and bit slowly into it. She did not wish to use her hands, but it seemed there was little choice.

"Want some water?" he asked.

She looked at the canteen he drank from and took it in her hands, lifting it to her lips and sipped. "It is interesting that you wanted to learn about my planet."

"Oh?" he asked. He placed two fingers up and she met them willingly. "Mmmmm."

"Do you enjoy this?" 

"Very much," he said. "Is this a kiss?"

"It is similar," she said. "Vulcans initiate this to show affection. Touching is extremely personal. To touch fingers is an act of intimacy. And to have others view this is a sign that you have chosen someone as your mate."

He broke the gesture and traced his hand languidly on her leg. "Is that another reason you don't like to hold hands in public?"

"Yes, but I can also gather surface thoughts from you when I touch you. Vulcans have touch telepathy," she mentioned. "I do not wish to invade your privacy. Nor do I want to have your thoughts interfere with mine. I can lose concentration."

He seemed startled and momentarily halted his movements. "You're telepathic?" 

"All Vulcans are, yes."

"So, back on the ship a few weeks ago … when I hugged you, you said that you felt something from me. Were you able to sense my thoughts?" he asked.

"Yes. I could sense your desire for me," she said. "I did not wish to invade your privacy. I apologize."

He squinted his eyes, trying to determine how that made him feel. He tossed out, "I used to touch you often."

"Not often. But, I have been able to gather your thoughts before, like your concern when we were on the Seleya."

He still regretted that decision, knowingly ordering hundreds of Vulcans to their deaths. Hearing the words made him reach for her hand in comfort. She squeezed his hand and released it. 

After a few beats, he asked, "What did you think when you felt my lust for you, as your … friend and captain?" 

"You indicated I was incorrect. Ergo, I assumed something else was on your mind, unrelated to me. I can merely pick up surface thoughts and feelings. I am unable to ascertain why you feel a certain way, unless we merge our thoughts more closely. However, I suspected they were your true feelings." She leaned over to kiss him. "And, I am … glad … they are."

Jon met her embrace, and tried to deepen it. She retreated from him and said, "Are you finished resting?"

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked. 

"I could tell your thoughts were more … wanton, shall we say?" she responded.

"No fooling you," he whispered sheepishly. "Well, my thoughts are always wanton when you're around. Sometimes more than others."

She raised an eyebrow at him. He grinned. He sat up and took another drink of water and said, "Ready to head down?

"By all means," she responded.

Chapter Thirteen 

By the time they got back to the hotel it was late, and they were both tired. Archer threw his gear onto his bed and T'Pol headed to her room. He unzipped the compartments and repacked for leaving first thing in the morning. He decided to call down for room service, order it for T'Pol's room and just enjoy the rest of the evening, which was already waning. He grabbed his PADD and headed over.

He knocked on her door and ambled in. She was already in the shower, and the steam was heating up the room. He placed the PADD on her bed and walked over and began making a small fire.

She stepped out, wearing the hotel robe and he beamed. Her hair was a little out of place, but she looked adorable. He walked over and gave her a peck on the forehead. "I ordered dinner for us to be delivered here. That okay?"

"Yes. Thank you for thinking of it."

He said, "Well, I better get in the shower. I must be pretty smelly by now."

She noted, "You are more fragrant than usual."

He chuckled, "I get the hint."

He walked out and headed back to his room as she sat down near the fire, warming herself. She reflected on the Mariposa Grove – the forest was quite pleasing. Jonathan took particular pleasure in being able to walk through a tree. Apparently hundreds of years ago, someone had taken the core from a tree so humans could walk literally through it. She mused that some of the simplest things tickled him. 

She heard a knock on the door and opened it. A waiter put down a tray of food on the table, popped open a bottle of wine, poured two glasses of water and unveiled dinner – salmon and a salad without meat, but with protein. 

"Thank you," she said.

He handed her a PADD that looked like a bill. She stared at him in confusion.

"You can charge it to the room," he instructed, gawking at her appearance.

"Oh. Yes." She noticed there was a tip added, probably why the young man who helped with her bags today waited, and saw a place for a signature. She scribbled her name and handed it over.

"Enjoy your dinner," he said. 

She looked down and noticed a rose in the vase and leaned in to smell it, when Archer walked into her room. He smiled, "Boy, I'm starving."

He put down a couple of candles he brought along and took a torch from the fireplace and lit them. He confessed, "It's romantic."

"Ah," she said.

He looked at the bottle of wine. "I didn't order this," he said, remembering getting just a little too tipsy last night. 

He took a note in his hand and read, "We are pleased to have you Captain Archer. Enjoy your stay!"

He smirked. Sometimes fame did have its advantages. "Want some, T'Pol?"

"No, thank you," she replied.

He filled his glass and took a deep drink. He sat down at the table and threw the napkin into his lap. "So tomorrow it'll take a few hours to get to the Grand Canyon. But, we're going to be roughing it."

"Camping?" she asked.

He smiled, "Yup." He tucked into his salmon, savoring the taste of food chef didn't make. Salmon was never on the menu on Enterprise.

She put the napkin in her lap and sipped the water. "It seems you enjoy camping."

He nodded, "I love it. I used to gaze up at the stars." He snorted and said, "Guess what I enjoy most now is the land."

"I have seen pictures of the Grand Canyon. I am intrigued."

"I think you'll love it. It's not as hot this time of year as you may like, but it's fairly dry and … what I imagine Vulcan to look like." He stabbed the fish and brought it to his lips eagerly. 

"We are staying there two days?" she asked.

"Yeah, I figure we'll get back to San Francisco Wednesday night. That'll give you plenty of time for your meeting with Soval on Thursday … unless you want to be back sooner?"

"No," she replied absently. "I had almost forgotten about the meeting." She took a careful bite of her salad.

"I take it, you're not eager to speak with him." She continued to eat her salad without acknowledging or denying it. "You know, I've already talked with Forrest about a field commission for you."

"Yes. And I … appreciate it. The ambassador is … interested in having me report to the High Command again. I have been trying to determine whether I would again report to the High Command for sometime. Undoubtedly, I would want more … autonomy now."

He agreed. "Do you think you'll come back aboard Enterprise?"

"My relationship with Commander Tucker put my professional objectivity at risk. As, no doubt, your relationship with me has done to you."

He put down his fork. "That's not entirely true. I would expect you to follow my orders when we returned."

"Could you order me to my death, if necessary?" she tested.

He hadn't really thought about that. In truth, he hadn't really thought about anything work related, except his appreciation that the Xindi conflict was over. He mulled the thought over. "I doubt I'd need to. I think you'd die for your crewmen willingly."

"That was not my question."

He said with reservation, "I wouldn't want to, but if I thought you'd save the ship or crew – yes."

She remained silent. She looked down at her meal and nibbled on it. He reiterated, "I wouldn't want to. I'd be sorry to lose you in many, many ways: as a friend, as a science officer, a lover and a companion. "

She blinked and touched his hand for a moment. 

He tossed over something in his mind that stung. She'd indicated she'd lost objectivity because of Trip, not him. He asked, "Do you think you've lost objectivity because of us … or me?"

T'Pol considered the question. "I am unsure."

Archer pushed his meal back, half-eaten. "Unsure?"

"If we were to go back today, I would most likely be able to remain impartial," she commented. She saw him look down at the table, and placed her hands on his. "I do not mean the comment coldly. I only mean that I can continue to serve under you and remain somewhat unbiased."

He smirked, "Right." Part of him was glad; he wanted to keep her on Enterprise, but part of him cringed. Her deeper feelings for Trip continued to annoy him. No matter how he looked at the information in front of him, she seemed to look at their liaison as something along the lines of just sex. Didn't she?

"T'Pol, do you consider me a potential mate?" he asked, tracing his finger along the table, watching the patterns he formed.

"Of course," she responded. "Of course, I consider you could be a _potential _mate." She was trying to ascertain what he was feeling and read his surface thoughts. She took his chin in her hand. "Are you concerned you mean nothing to me?"

He stared at the table.

She turned his chin up and captured his lips with hers. When they broke apart, she asserted using an idiom she had heard, "Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean a great deal to me." She could tell he was brooding over the information she gave him. "Perhaps we should discuss our burgeoning relationship in more detail."

He remained silent.

"Jonathan, Vulcans do not have _dear friends_. When I use this term, I mean it affectionately. Boyfriend seemed like an adequate term."

"I can handle 'boyfriend'," he responded with a tinge of sadness to his voice.

"I believe neither of us know whether this is a long-term relationship. I am considering it. And, I am still determining my feelings for Commander Tucker. My feelings for him were profound and are unusual, at least for a Vulcan. I am trying to adjust them and … put them into context. I do not want to push you away, but you may expect too much too soon."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to consider the information.

"Have I misled you in any way?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. "No, you haven't."

She hastened to ask, afraid of what the answer might be. "Should we cut this vacation short? You could return me to the Vulcan Consulate. I had already agreed to stay there before you suggested I accompany you."

He didn't want that. He wanted to be draped in her arms, enjoying the fire, embracing, reading a book or just being with her. He sighed and looked into her eyes. "No. I enjoy being with you. I guess it's difficult for me," he mumbled.

"What can I do to put your mind at ease?" she asked. "You have been insecure about our relationship and my feelings."

He whispered, "I know. I don't think you're doing anything wrong. It's me. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't expect you to feel the same emotions I do, or with the same intensity."

"What _do _you expect from me?" she asked. 

"Everything you're giving."

"What seems to be the problem, then?" she asked. 

"Maybe … maybe I'm jealous of Trip," he said. In fact, he knew that was the case. "Funny, huh?"

"It is not amusing, nor is it unusual. I believe it is understandable. I cannot change my feelings for him suddenly. I can refrain from talking about him. Although, he is a friend to both of us; we have both brought him up in conversation."

He nodded. She ran her finger along his lips. "I have noticed humans need physical contact when they are unsettled."

He smiled weakly. He knew she meant she wanted to hug him. She drew him into her arms and held him tightly to her. She knew his mind was still slightly brooding and placed a kiss at his temple. 

She kneeled in front of him, as she had seen him do countless times. She took his hands in hers and leaned up to kiss him. 

"T'Pol, really it's okay," he said, after pecking her lips.

She left her hand on his face and looked into his eyes. "Jonathan." 

"Really, I'm okay," he said, looking down on her.

"Do you wish to be alone?" she asked, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"No," he said. 

"Let me show you how I … feel about you," she responded.

He shrugged her off. "Really, it's not necessary."

She pursed her lips against his neck and kissed gently down, reaching the top of his shirt. Her hand tugged at the material, as she attempted to pull it over his head. He shyly let her push his shirt over his head, without giving much assistance. 

Her lips nibbled at his chest as she stared into his eyes. She could tell he was giving in as he murmured and slipped his hand underneath her hair. Her lips travelled over his belly button, she nuzzled her nose against the hair at his stomach and set a course up his torso and nabbed his mouth. He leaned over on the chair and crawled out of it, pushing her gently to the ground.

Chapter Fourteen 

Archer woke up in front of an exhausted fire draped in covers he'd dragged from the bed during the night. He stroked her cheek and scolded himself for bringing up Trip and her relationship with him. It wasn't doing him any good to stew about it, and it seemed to confuse T'Pol. He knew if a woman had needled him, he'd think she was just a little desperate.

So what -- they'd had an affair? So what that Trip beat him to the punch? Who was with her now? Who was lying beside her? He grinned to himself in self-satisfaction. He decided for the rest of the vacation, he wouldn't push her. He'd take whatever she could give him. Period. End of story.

She stirred slightly in his arms and asked hoarsely, "What time is it?"

He squinted to read the chronometer across the room. "0615." He wondered why he was still using military time. He decided to reiterate, "6:15."

He curled her hair in her fingers and smiled. "Do all Vulcans look perfect in the morning?"

She raised an eyebrow and teased, "I am uncertain. But, I have noticed humans look somewhat more rumpled." She noted his hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other. His eyes had small particles near the tear ducts and his cheek was marred with vertical and horizontal lines.

He grinned boyishly and smoothed his hair, feeling it spring back up after his attempt to tame it. He shrugged. "I guess we must sleep harder."

"Perhaps," she said with amusement gleaming in her eye.

After a swift kiss on the cheek, Archer stood and squirmed into the pants that lay on the floor. He stretched his back – already killing him from sleeping on the floor. He turned the heat up in the room and headed off across the hall to start getting ready.

T'Pol often didn't allow herself the privilege of lounging around, but felt she needed to gather her thoughts. She'd been meditating for short intervals each day, but not enough to feel that her mind was cleansed. She nuzzled into her pillow and mused about the relationship she had with Archer. 

Archer came back in, hair slightly damp and chided, "You're not up yet?"

T'Pol opened her eyes. "I was meditating. How long has it been?"

"About an hour. I've even packed my bags."

"I apologize. Does this put us behind schedule?" she asked.

He grinned. "Nah, take you time. Tell you what, I'll grab breakfast downstairs and something for you."

She pulled the covers to her and said, "Thank you."

Archer nodded and headed downstairs. He ate breakfast, drank plenty of coffee, read the San Francisco Examiner on his PADD, settled the hotel bill, visited the gift shop and bought a cup of tea. He toddled into the elevator and into T'Pol's room. She was already dressed and began packing her belongings.

He handed her some tea and smiled. She sipped it gratefully, when he pulled something out of his pocket and set it down. T'Pol noticed it was a camera. "I've been meaning to take some pictures; you'll have to remind me."

She raised a wary eyebrow. 

"Maybe we can get a few on our way to the Grand Canyon."

He grinned and said, "Got something else." He set down a book about Yosemite Falls. "It's for you," he commented.

She set down her tea and held the hard copy book in her hands. "This was unexpected. Thank you. I will enjoy reading this."

He beamed. He sat down and waited for her to finish drinking her tea and mindlessly fiddled with the camera. When she was done, he took her bags and headed downstairs. Eddie saw Archer struggle with the baggage and gave him a hand, carrying them out.

As they neared the shuttle, Eddie said, "She seems like a nice lady."

Archer heaved the bags into the shuttle. "Yes, she is. I'm a pretty lucky guy."

T'Pol joined them in the shuttle lot, carrying extra bags. Archer walked to meet her, grabbing a few off her shoulders and sagged under their weight.

Eddie gave a sheepish grin to the Vulcan as she entered the shuttle. As she walked in she paused and said, "Good luck in your endeavors, young man."

Archer dipped into his wallet and tipped the young man generously, stepping into the shuttle. He turned to T'Pol and said, "I don't suppose you sing in the shuttle, do you?" He grinned mischeivously and warmed his vocal chords as he brought up some music. Much to her chagrin it was something called rock.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	4. Change of Hearts part four

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part four 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five 

Chapter Fifteen 

On the way to the Grand Canyon, Archer chatted it up about camping, taking pictures, how cool it gets at night and star gazing. 

T'Pol was probably looking forward to this part of their trip the most. She had heard about this area for some time, especially from Archer. He had likened it to Vulcan, though he had never been to her home planet. She imagined the desert to be hot, vast and colorless. As they approached the area, T'Pol was struck by how enormous the land mass was, how colorful it seemed and how deep the canyon was. She did not realize water would cut through it with such skill.

He watched the awe in T'Pol's eyes and grinned. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is … inspiring," she said.

He set the shuttle down in a shuttle lot and got out. The sun beat down on them, even at this time of year. He took his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on his face.

"Damn," he said. "I forgot to bring sunglasses for you."

"Vulcans have nictitating membranes – my eyes are naturally shielded. I do not require shaded lenses." 

"Huh," he commented, impressed, pulling out some of the camping gear. 

She saw very few shuttles in the area and noticed Archer pulling out backpacks. She raised her eyebrow, "Are we headed down to the valley floor? It seems like a long hike," she said.

"We'll be here for two days," he said. "I think we can do it." He strapped his blue pack to his back and lifted a smaller white one for T'Pol. 

She hefted the pack on easily.

"Ready?" he asked. 

"Of course," she replied.

The two headed down the reddish-brown path. He began singing to himself as he marched down the trail, keeping time with his shoes as they patted against the earth. Dust continued to kick up, leaving a layer of clouds behind them. T'Pol looked out into the crevasse – a geological wonder. 

"You commented that this looks like Vulcan," she said.

"What I imagine Vulcan to look like," he corrected, still humming in his mind.

"Although pleasing, it is _not _what Vulcan looks like. Vulcan does have caves, but is mostly flat. The desert is arid and the winds can be severe."

"I understand Vulcan is comprised of only 15% water," he noted.

"Yes, water is extremely rare. You ask a lot of questions about my planet."

"I want to find out more about where my girlfriend's from," he said.

"Hmmm," she mused.

He turned around and smiled at her. He reached for her hand and took it in his. He continued down the path when she asked, "I thought you were seeing someone while aboard Enterprise."

He stopped suddenly, recovered, and kept walking. "I was. Long-distance relationships don't exactly pan out. Besides, I wasn't exactly seeing her."

T'Pol tried to understand his meaning. "I understood that while on Earth, before we entered the Expanse, you saw this woman."

"She was an ex-girlfriend. Her mom gave me Porthos. I wanted to say goodbye to her."

"Did you end the relationship before or after you entered the Expanse?"

"Before," he commented. He let a few moments of silence pass and said, "Her name is Rebecca. I decided to see her again before we set out for the Xindi mission for … company," he confessed, not proud he visited the woman mostly for her physical comfort. 

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Do humans do this often? Seek companionship in this manner?" She wondered about their own relationship.

He took a deep breath. "Sometimes, after something traumatic. I don't usually seek … companionship in this manner …. I just …" he began. "I needed someone; she's a good friend, even if we don't talk much." He tried to spark up the discussion and said, "Besides I didn't know you'd be interested in a human."

"So you bedded another woman because you could not bed me?" she asked. "Seems illogical."

"Well, that's not really what I meant. But, …" It was kind what he meant. Saying it sounded awful. "Yes, it was illogical and unfair to her."

Something about the comment seemed to ring true in her own situation. She had found Jonathan attractive and believed he was also interested in her. But, only a few weeks after entering the Expanse, he had completely changed. He had pushed her and everyone on board away, secluding himself in isolation. When she learned of Sim's feelings, she had believed them to be Commander Tucker's. And, when she thought about the engineer, she thought he was handsome, exciting and … wanted her. 

T'Pol decided this thought would need further evaluation.

"Dated anyone else long term?" he asked, not mentioning Trip's name. 

She didn't mention Charles' name. "Before? I was in a relationship of sorts. His name is Koss." She paused and continued her conversation, "However, I did not date him. We were betrothed at an early age."

Archer stopped and retrieved a water bottle. Surprised he said, "But, you're not still engaged?"

"No," she said. "I terminated it aboard Enterprise. In fact, I believe that transmission was monitored by the crew when I was first aboard."

He took a drink of water. "That seems so long ago. I didn't really know you then. And, I didn't trust you."

She raised her eyebrow. "Nor did I trust you."

He grinned. "Well, seems like we've both come a long ways."

"Indeed," she claimed. 

Archer put his water bottle back in a loop of his pack and continued downward. "Did you love … or have deep feelings for Koss."

"He was largely unknown to me. I did not have strong feelings for him, but was expected to marry."

"What made you change your mind?" he asked.

"A crewman," she responded. "He talked with me about doing what I thought best. He indicated humans marry with deeper, more meaningful feelings."

Archer had an inkling it was Trip. He asked, "Did you ever hear from Koss again?"

"No. I disgraced his family by declining to marry him. My parents, had they been alive, would be undoubtedly … unsettled."

"You've taken a lot of risks being on Enterprise. Sometimes, I forget that."

"You have taken many risks to ensure I continue to stay on Enterprise. I have not forgotten that."

"I thought 'loyalty' was an emotion," he commented, with a grin.

"It is," she said. "Soval believed I was corrupted by you."

"Me in particular?" he beamed. 

"Yes," she agreed.

He smirked, "He doesn't know the half of it, does he?"

"Indeed not."

They continued their conversation until they reached the ground. It was an incredibly long hike. They reached the bottom late into the night – approximately 2000 hours.

Archer pulled off his pack and stretched his back. "I really put us through the paces. Maybe you were right about needing more time."

She effortlessly slipped off her pack. "We did make it, though."

He stiffly bent over and yelped, shooting his hand to his lower back. "I think I wrenched it from the other night sleeping on the ground."

She said, "Allow me to set up camp."

He nodded, carefully easing himself down to the ground without moving his back. He instructed her how to pop the tent, unroll the sleeping bag and begin a fire, which was legal this time of year. After everything was up, unrolled and ready, she moved over to him. By that time, he was able to gain some motion without pain, but hoped it wouldn't hinder their activities the next day.

T'Pol rubbed her hands near the fire and instructed, "Lift your shirt."

He obeyed with a grimace.

She placed her thumbs against his lower back and pushed lightly, then with great force. As her hands released, he wiggled his back with a whistle. "That feels a lot better."

"Perhaps when we retire I can give you further assistance," she commented.

He was still moving his back. "Neuropressure?" he asked.

"Yes," she commented.

He thought about her late night sessions with Trip and how that possibly triggered her to have deeper feelings for the man. 'Maybe that's where things really started to head south,' thought Archer. 

T'Pol illuminated another light, as Archer mused, "Gosh, I'm an old man."

"I believed early forties to be near middle age," she commented. "Was I incorrect?"

He chuckled, "No, I guess I'm almost middle-aged. You're fairly young for a Vulcan."

"I have approximately forty years before I reach … middle age."

"When you reach half your life span, I'll be 82," he said thinking about her hanging out with a white-haired old man. 

"Age is irrelevant, if that is what concerns you," she mentioned.

"No," he said. "It concerns me if we stay together you'll look like you're a human of about 40, and I'll look like an old man."

She walked over and stroked his cheek. He took her hand, and then grabbed her playfully, swinging her to the ground with a growl, placing them both in the sand-like earth. 

After a small struggle, Archer pinned her arms to the ground. She asked with confusion, "Why did you do that?"

He laughed and kissed her on the tip of the nose. "Because my back feels better."

"Does it?" she asked.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her again as she gently tossed him free and trotted slowly away.

He looked confused and realized she was teasing him. He scrambled to his feet and ran after her. She turned and pivoted this way and that, as he tried to follow her every move. He was near giggling as he chased after her. Finally, in sheer brilliance, he pretended to give up. T'Pol let down her guard and he caught her. 

He picked her up in his arms and walked toward the fire, smiling. 

"Humans are illogical," she commented.

"You're just mad because I got you," he said, kissing her lips.

She raised an eyebrow.

He set her down, letting his stomach rumble. "I'm famished."

"I am also hungry," she said. 

"I'll go ahead and cook dinner," he said, riffling through his bags.

"Very well. May I help?" 

"Nah, go make yourself comfortable."

She kissed his neck and walked into the tent, pulling out the book he bought for her at Yosemite.

He pulled out the sealed meals and tossed them into a pot and put the lid on it. He stared up at the stars, almost forgetting what they looked like. He found Orion easily – that was always the quickest to find. He sighed and breathed in the cool, arid air. He mumbled to himself, "This is the life."

What a great moment for a photo opportunity. "Sweetheart, could you get my camera? It's in my pack," he said.

T'Pol cringed slightly. Photos. Humans had such a preoccupation with capturing a moment in time, possibly because their memories were not as good. She shuffled through his pack and pulled out the contraption. 

"I have located it," she called out.

He walked over to the tent and took it greedily from her hands. "Great!" He fiddled with it for a moment and took an impromptu picture of T'Pol. The flash lit up her face as she blinked several times trying to see. 

He stared into the back of it. "You had your eyes closed. Let's try that again," he mentioned, taking another shot.

He clicked the camera again, and looked into the back. "There – that's very nice. Wanna see?"  
he asked giving her a closed-mouth grin.

He lowered the camera and showed her a picture of her sticking her head out of the tent with a raised eyebrow.

In response to that picture, she raised both eyebrows. "Would you like me to take one of you?" she asked.

He smiled. "I got an idea. I'll take one of both of us. Come here," he said. She unwillingly exited the tent and walked toward him. He fiddled with the camera and looked around. He walked over toward a rock and placed the camera on it. He then grabbed his remote control device and stared at the picture he thought he was taking. He grabbed T'Pol's hand and led her in front of it. 

As the camera zoomed in, Archer slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek as the picture snapped. T'Pol stared at him with confusion. He gleefully ended his embrace and ran to the camera, looking into the back. He gave a lop-sided grin and held the camera out to T'Pol. She took it in her hands and saw the two of them -- her looking somewhat bewildered, and him expressing utter joy, giving her face a peck.

Archer in his excitement with his new toy, forgot about the food and saw steam rising out of the pot. "Oh, hell."

He set down the camera and ran over to their meals. "Could you get me a rag, T'Pol? I think I have one in my pack."

She riffled through and didn't see it. Instead, she decided to use his shirt, figuring it would do the trick. "Try this," she said holding it out to him. 

He frowned and picked up the lid in it, exclaiming, "Hot!" He uncovered the dishes and saw although they were a little overdone, they were edible.

"Dinner's ready," he said apologetically.

After dinner the two curled up in one sleeping bag in the same tent. Archer read _I, Robot_ and T'Pol flipped through the pictures of Yosemite again.

T'Pol's stomach began to rumble, as she noticed a pain in it. The noise was loud enough for Archer to hear. "You still hungry?" he asked, putting his PADD down.

"No," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. "My stomach is unsettled."

Archer offered, "Sorry, I thought you'd like that vegetarian Indian dish."

"It was … appetizing. Did you bring my tea?"

"Yup," he said. "Want me to make some?"

"If it is not too much trouble," she replied.

He shuffled out of bed, into the cold air and began to heat up her tea. He walked back in knowing it would take a few minutes.

He got into the sleeping bag again and put his hand on T'Pol's stomach, moving it gently across her abdomen. 

At first the contact bothered her. "That is unnecessary."

He continued, slowing moving his palm against her tummy. "My mom used to do this for me when I had stomach aches as a kid. Used to help." 

After a few minutes, she noticed the pain had been reduced tremendously … even if his hand ran over one of her hearts and her stomach.

She continued breathing deeply and asked, "When did your mother die?"

"When I was young. You said your parents are dead?"

"Yes," she mentioned.

"You're an only child?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. 

"When did your folks die?"

"Approximately twenty years ago."

His face turned down as his hand followed along her belly. He marveled at her navel – the skin inside looked greener than the rest of her. After continuing for a few more minutes in silence, he got up, found a cup and walked out to the fire.

He brought back a cup of tea and handed it to her. 

She blew into the mug and sipped. "Your mother's remedy was quite soothing."

He said, "I'm going to put out the fire and hit the hay."

She drank deeply and thought about how serene this relationship was. Vulcans, rational beings, believed that procreation was _the _reason for mating. But, being with humans made her realize that passion was important to them – both physical and emotional. In her dabbling with human culture, she had learned to appreciate this characteristic. She did not embody it whole-heartedly, but valued this in humans. It made them seem childlike, exciting and sweet. 

Archer wandered back in and crawled into the sleeping bag. He stripped out of his shirt and pants and reclined back onto his small pillow. He glanced over at T'Pol, still sipping her tea. 

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded. "Much."

He lazily put an arm across her legs and drifted off to sleep. T'Pol finished her book and tea and then gazed down at Jonathan. He slept peacefully, letting a tiny noise escape his lips. She decided against combing her fingers through his hair; she didn't want to wake him. Instead, she continued to look down at his face – the small hairs trying to poke free through his jaw, his long eyelashes, the cleft in his chin and his small lips. He was beautiful. 

She decided to meditate. As she fell deep into a trance, she heard a rumbling noise. Her eyes flashed open, and she turned to Archer, who was snoring a little louder than normal. She furrowed her brows in consternation and shook him lightly. "Jonathan," she whispered.

His rumbling strengthened. "Jonathan," she said louder.

"Huh?" he asked hoarsely, barely lifting his head and keeping his eyes closed. 

"I believe you are snoring," she noted.

"Sorry," he grunted turning onto his stomach. 

T'Pol decided she would give in, and get some rest. She reclined and stroked Archer's back in the spot that had bothered him earlier.

Chapter Seventeen 

The next day was lazy. Jonathan woke up late. T'Pol was already up, had started the small fire and sipped her tea. Archer walked out of the tent in his skivvies to the smell of coffee. He sucked in his breath at the rapids. Pima Point had always been one of his favorite spots. He was lucky this time of year no one was around. He was also lucky they allowed him to stay near the spot.

T'Pol watched him scratch at his lower back, stretch and show off his underarm hair. His hand ran across his hair and face as he said hoarsely, "What time is it?"

"Approximately 0900 hours."

"I must've been tired," said Jonathan scanning the area for the best place to answer nature's call. "Did you see sunrise?" he asked, still searching.

"I did. It was … quite impressive."

He frowned at missing it. 

"What is on your agenda for today?" she asked.

"I thought today we'd take it easy. We can hike around the inner canyon. There are a couple of nice trails to take. But, I do think we need to take it easy. I checked the local forecast. It'll get a little warm today."

"Very well," she said. 

Archer stepped into the tent, put on a pair of pants and some shoes and said, "I'll be right back." He walked off behind a rock face.

T'Pol retrieved some grain bars and began to devour one. A few seconds later, Archer walked around the bend, cleaning his hands with bottle of sanitizer and whistling. 

"Why are you eating a grain bar? I was planning to make pancakes," he said with a frown.

"I have tasted your pancakes before. Besides, I believe this is sufficient."

"Well, all right," he said. He dug into his pack and pulled out a grain bar for himself with a disappointed frown. "Tomorrow is pancakes though."

After reading the San Francisco examiner on his PADD, sipping his coffee and eating, he began to clean up around the campsite. It was already 10:32 and he was still milling around.

T'Pol had become engrossed in some reports she took back from the ship regarding efficiency for the science crew. After Archer stopped musing, he noticed T'Pol staring into a PADD from Enterprise.

"Did you bring work with you?" he asked.

"I was interested in reading Ensign Roberts' report on …."

He took the PADD from her hand. "We're on vacation. Please tell me you brought other things to read."

"Jonathan, I wish to read that. It has been troubling me for sometime. It appears that the …."

He waved his hands in front of his chest. "Oh, no. I'm not talking about work. I'm here to have a good time."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and mentioned, "You brought an astrophysics report with you."

He frowned. "You saw it?"

"I mistakenly thought your PADD was mine."

"Alright. But, I wanted to read about the new clusters, nebulas and other phenomenon we located in the Expanse. I was a little pre-occupied; I didn't have the opportunity to examine that information at the time."

"And I am interested in determining a particular situation. We have only managed to get 97% efficiency from the scanners. This has troubled me since my time on Enterprise. I believe I may have new insight into the problem."

Jon shook his head. "I doubt the scanners were designed for the kind of optimization you want."

"Nevertheless, if Roberts creates a sub-particle …."

"Uh,uh. You're trying to sucker me into talking about work again. Work is the last thing I want to think about." He saw disappointment in T'Pol's eyes. "I only have a couple of days until I meet with Forrest and hear undoubtedly that we'll be tasked to go back to our original mission. I'd like to not be the captain for a little while longer. That okay?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Yes. However, I hope you respect my desire to solve this problem."

His lips formed a flat line. "I guess that's fair."

"Good," she commented. 

"As long as you're not taking geo samples to analyze once we return back to Enterprise …."

"Of course not," she teased. "I can do so before we arrive there. If I return there."

Archer hated hearing this conversation. "T'Pol …."

"Let us not discuss this again. I believe you wanted to go on a hike?" she asked.

He frowned, "Yeah."

"Then let us proceed."

Both of them went into the tent to change – Archer donned a pair of shorts and a light shirt, put plenty of water in his backpack and ensured the camera was working and headed out. T'Pol wore slightly more clothing and took less water and began to walk out. 

The two walked around the inner canyon, stopping to take pictures every ten minutes or so when a new vista shot into view. Archer insisted that many of those shots include a stoic looking Vulcan who desperately did not want her picture taken. As they came to the head of some rapids, Archer took his pack off and reached for some water and lunch. 

"This looks like a good spot," he said eagerly. It was already 3:21, way beyond lunchtime for him. He greedily took some beef jerky and tore into it.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and commented, "This place reminds me of the water in Vargas II."

In between mouthfuls he said, "Mmm. I can see that."

She eyed him stuffing his face and mentioned, "You are still not at the weight you were when we first left Earth."

He savored the last swallow and said, "Well, maybe I can work up to it."

"Why had you lost weight?" she asked. "Dr. Phlox and I were concerned."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I had a lot on my mind. I didn't feel like I had a lot of time, nor any real appetite." He thought about how the Xindi pre-occupied his every thought … well, except those regarding Tucker and T'Pol. 

"It was difficult on you … watching Commander Tucker and I begin a relationship?" she asked.

He sat down on the nearest rock and looked into the rapids. "Yes."

She reached her hand on his shoulder and whispered, "I wish you had said something."

He looked up at her and asked, "What was I supposed to say? Commander, Sub-commnder, stop seeing each other because it bothers me. That's an order?"

"No, however I believe if Charles and I knew how you felt, we would have been possibly more discreet."

He chuckled, "You were pretty discreet. Hoshi was hoping I'd have the gory details and asked what was going on between you two. She ended up filling me in on the whole situation. I think she felt rather embarrassed." He thought about that night in the Mess Hall getting a cup of coffee to take back to the Command Center when Hoshi entered. She was surprised to see him up. She looked around the empty dining room and decided this was her shot to casually get the juicy info on Tucker and T'Pol. He could tell how badly she felt when she found out he was completely clueless to their relationship. He could also tell, perhaps she'd gathered what he thought about the information, causing her to make lots of apologies and head back to her room.

"You chose not to discuss it with us," she commented.

"I figured I should let you lead your lives, as long as it didn't interfere with your work. Never seemed to, until …." Archer let his voice trail off, thinking about the night that Trip broke up with her.

They were quiet for a few minutes and Archer asked, "Were you surprised to find out how I felt?"

She ran her hand under his slightly damp hair. "Yes. But, I have become … fond of the idea." She kissed his cheek.

He gave her a toothless smile and scooted over on the rock so she could sit down. She sat down next to him and held his hand. 

"You said Vulcan had very little water. Do you have rivers like this?" he asked.

"Precious few," she commented. "We do have one rapid that runs through the outskirts of Shi'Kar."

"Ever been kayaking or river rafting?" he asked.

"No," she responded. "The water is too valuable to swim in or for other recreation." 

"River kayaking scares the hell outta me." He grinned. "I love it."

"It is odd that you enjoy feeling fear. You have an interest in 'scary' movies."

"Makes you feel like you're alive," he said, leaning over to kiss her.

As their lips met, she could taste how salty he was. Vulcans did not perspire as much as humans did. Thankfully, she could not smell him over the fresh air. She permitted him to deepen the kiss, but felt awkward that he was becoming aroused and letting his hands wander over her body.

"I do not think this is wise," she said, feeling him becoming more passionate. 

He panted, "Who's going to see us?"

"We are not the only ones in the park," she reminded him. 

"You know what the odds are of someone coming across us?" he whispered, nibbling on her ear.

"Yes. Approximately 29.9%. Although few people come here this time of year, this hiking area is considered widely traveled."

She did her homework. He wasn't sure if it was because she was one of the best science officers he'd seen, or because she was a Vulcan. Possibly both. 

"Haven't spotted anyone yet," he countered, taking her earlobe in his teeth. 

"Jonathan," she warned.

He gathered that she was shooting down the idea. "You sure I can't talk you into it?" His lips teased hers as he moaned into her mouth. His hand slipped under her shirt, resting at her waist.

T'Pol had gathered that human sexuality was often at times bizarre. Charles was exhilarated thinking about someone catching the two of them. When she mingled with his mind, she could tell this was a fantasy of his – meeting in the Jeffries tubes off duty when the ship was fairly quiet. He never wanted to be caught, but the idea that he could be was thrilling to him. She was unsure of Jonathan's motives, but hypothesized his thoughts were similar.

"Yes," she countered, catching his hand at her stomach.

His head fell into her neck with disappointment and a laugh escaped his lips. "All right." He took a deep breath. "Sorry, you're just so … beautiful and being here feels …. It feels great."

"Being here is quite pleasing. And you are … handsome. However, I do not wish to be discovered, even if it may please you."

He laughed harder at hearing that come from her. He was pretty sure she must think him deviant. "I don't really want to be discovered either; I just wanted to _be _with you in the outdoors."

"Ah," she commented. "Then perhaps when we arrive at our tent, we can resume."

"I guess so," he said. Resume? He shook his head. He put his arm around T'Pol and stared at the view with a deep sigh. 

After twenty minutes of gazing into the water, admiring the landscape, and giving occasional kisses, Jon looked at his watch and said with a chortle, "We gotta get back. I want to see the sunset."

He gathered up his pack, strapped it on and helped T'Pol with hers. He then set a quick pace moving back to camp. T'Pol was able to easily keep up with him. 

During most of the journey back, Jonathan sang merrily. He occasionally would whirl her in his arms as he sang to her about various things. One song bothered her – he twirled her around as he crooned about a gangster named Mac who liked knives and stabbed someone. She did have to admit his voice was nice and the song (as well as others) seemed to amuse him.

As they reached their tent, Archer was wiped out. His back was bothering him a little and he was a little dehydrated. He reached into his pack and quickly pulled out the remainder of his water and gulped it down. 

He sat down and looked out over the horizon watching the sun begin to set. He immediately dug through his pack to locate his camera and seemed frantic to find it. Upon spying it, he smiled and pointed it at the sun beginning to sink against the horizon. He clicked several pictures. Before the sun escaped behind the last hill, Archer motioned for T'Pol and put his arms tightly around her and whispered in her ear, "I'm so happy."

She closed her eyes and realized she was, too.

Chapter Eighteen 

The next day Archer woke up early, hoping to catch the sunrise. He walked out in his underwear and shivered at the cold. T'Pol followed him out with their sleeping bag and draped it around them. He put his arm around her and watched the darkened sky begin to light up. 

"Was it this spectacular yesterday?" he asked.

"No. Today it is more pleasing."

"Really? What's different?"

"Today you are here with me."

He looked at her feeling like possibly the luckiest man in the universe. He gazed at her delicate features and large lips. After a few minutes of his contemplative stares, T'Pol said, "You are missing the very event you came out here to witness."

Archer found himself whispering, "You're not going to go back to him, are you?" He couldn't think of the pain it would cause him to lose her again. 

"It seems unlikely. He has terminated the relationship."

Jon nodded slowly. He was looking for a no, but decided T'Pol's way of saying it was 'it seems unlikely.' Besides, he'd already broken his promise to himself about bringing up Trip.

"In some way, you are helping me to recover from that affair," she offered, unexpectedly. 

"I am?" he asked.

"Yes. You have been understanding, patient, affectionate … you have made me feel that perhaps Charles has … missed an opportunity, rather than – I have missed one."

He moved his arm from around her and petted her hair. She seemed to be really opening up. Although it tugged at his heart to hear about her previous suitor, he knew it was good for her to get it out. He decided to try and push aside his jealousy. 

"I knew it would be painful for you. Even if you didn't express it, I knew you would feel it," he said softly.

"It was … painful.

"And still is?" he asked.

"Yes." She looked out, noticing that the light was beginning to redden the sky and clouds. "How long did it take you to … recover from a similar situation?"

He kissed her cheek. "Depends. The ones I really felt committed to, it took a while."

"What … surprises me is that I feel somewhat ready to try to feel the way that I felt with Charles again. But, would like the experience to be different. New."

His heart was pounding in his chest. "I hope you mean with me," he said with a smile.

She rested her hand about his cheek. "Yes."

"We've been moving very fast," he offered, trying to put her at ease. 

"Yes," she confirmed. "But, I would like to continue at this speed."

He grinned. She added hesitantly, "In fact, I would like to hasten it."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

She admitted, "We have discussed mingling thoughts." She found herself searching for the right words. "I would like to attempt this with you."

His lips nabbed hers and he said with a hoarse voice, "We've only been together for a few days."

"Four to be exact."

He chuckled, "Okay four. You just confessed something very private; I know how difficult it was for you. That means a lot to me. I just don't want you to rush into anything."

She ran her hand up his leg. "I want to hear your thoughts inside my head," she said with wanton. "To a Vulcan, this is extremely intimate and … exciting."

Astonishingly she didn't turn away from his breath. She instead met his mouth with small pants. She reassured, "It is not painful."

"I didn't think it was," he said, reveling in the idea she wanted him. 

"We have known each other for almost four years."

"Three and a half to be exact," he whispered back. "Seems like a minute to a Vulcan."

"Not always. Your intellect speaks to mine," she whispered. "Your body speaks to mine. We have been friends for sometime. I am willing to share my inner thoughts with you. And, I want to know yours." She gently pushed him to the ground. 

His mouth covered hers with fervor. Their lips began to crash against the others as she held a tentative hand to his face. She kissed his throat. "I take it you do not mind?"

"No, I don't mind," he said, writhing under her. 

"This will feel like our thoughts are brushing against each other; I will not attempt a deeper mind meld. I am only collecting thoughts you allow me to see."

Her fingers danced like a spider down the side of his face as she whispered, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts."

His eyes stared into hers, hearing the trickle of vague thoughts run across his brain. At first he wasn't sure whether they were his or hers, but he began to hear her voice call to him. 

'Jonathan,' she thought. Her voice echoed behind his eyes. 

'Yes?' he answered, unsure what to do.

'Open your mind to me,' she requested gently. She wanted to feel what he felt. Her lips took his as he huffed beneath her.

He let some of his inhibitions go, as thoughts of love and desire flitted to the surface. His mouth met hers as he pushed his tongue in. Sensing her thoughts, he knew she enjoyed it. The feeling was foreign – apparently Vulcans didn't embrace this way, but it seemed animal-like to her. She found it erotic. 

Archer thought, 'I can understand why this is clandestine and … exhilarating.' He never knew she derived so much pleasure from this act. Feeling her sense of titillation roused him further.

She saw he was filled with overwhelming passion. She realized she tasted slightly metallic to him. T'Pol was eager for him to share his thoughts, but he was hesitant to let them come to the surface; he was intensely private. Revealing his inner desires was almost against his nature.

She urged verbally, "I will not betray your confidences."

She saw in his mind more information eked out. He had fantasized about her for sometime. He showed her some of them in alluring detail as she savored every thought that came to his mind. He showed her his feelings for her on a daily basis – sometimes he didn't understand her, sometimes he wasn't sure if she was joking, he struggled with an unending amount of insecurity about their relationship, but tried to put on a brave face about it … and more than anything he accepted her. He had given his heart to her and expected very little in return. He was overjoyed she desired him and tickled she wanted to exchange thoughts. 

She spied how relieved and frightened he was when she volunteered to stay on Enterprise.

He had worried for months about her after visiting the Selaya, wondering if even the slightest amount of Trellium D would cause insanity. She envisioned his trepidation at having the anomaly overtake her when her foot was trapped under the beam. And she noted he had resolved himself that if she was happy with Tucker, then that's what was meant to be. She saw he stopped at her door nearly every night, shook off the idea of bothering her and trudged back to his cabin or to the Command Center. 

She viewed his conversation with Trip about breaking up with her, indicating that Natalie wanted him back. Archer realized the thought came to the surface and tried to shove it back.

She eased his mind. She knew it was because of another woman that Charles had wanted to leave.

He showed her how free he felt. He showed her how happy he was. His thoughts ran over the past few days as if they were some of the most precious he had lived. He was ecstatic there would be more. 

She saw a glimpse into his katra. He was serious, but with tinges of playfulness and hints of dark brooding. He was quiet, with the need to chat and make friends. And, he was private; he rarely shared the most important feelings or thoughts with anyone save Porthos. She saw his life had been marred with both tragedy, as when his parents died when he was young, and luck, like being the first captain from Earth to fly a starship. The bits and pieces of his life unraveled like a handmade sweater – sometimes coming apart in large fragments, sometimes in tiny threads.

His very soul was cool, like the sea. It was poetic, restrained only by the shore, vast and mostly still. 

In return, she showed Archer her feelings of admiration, friendship, confusion and respect. He saw that she was often amused by him, and considered him a close friend. She was unhappy when their relationship began to fade, as his attention drew more closely on the Xindi and the weapon, but recognized that was as it should be.

She unveiled that she was looking forward to spending time with him. And when they reached his apartment only four days ago, she found him vulnerable and desirable. She had always found him attractive, even the first day she met him when he seemed ridiculously smug despite his lack of knowledge and experience. 

She was nervous about beginning a relationship with him, but he had proved to be an attentive mate, excellent lover and friend all wrapped up in one. She saw little of the brooding that came with his moodiness, noticing mostly the positive characteristics of it – enthusiasm and joy.

She also let him know she thought of him differently than Charles. She did not compare the two; they both had merits. But, she did acknowledge the engineer was still in her thoughts and that pushing him out was difficult, though getting easier. She told Jonathan that her feelings for him were more profound than she expected. Jonathan was more than a dear friend. He was possibly more than a boyfriend, but she couldn't be sure.

Her life was on display – her betrothal to Koss, when she began the Kolinahr, her time tracking Menos and her as the aid to Ambassador Soval. He could see she admired the man greatly and thought she would never falter in loyalty to him. 

She thought of Vulcan, so he could see a glimmer of her home. She showed him exotic flowers, strange animals and sand-colored towers. He saw the red swirling skies, the two suns and the two moons. He saw her as her mind's eye perceived herself – a hot, dry desert at the end of the day. She was not stirred by the wind; she was peaceful and calm. Dark shadows moved silently against the dunes.

As their thoughts continued to mingle, their embrace became more intimate. She was somewhat shocked at the passion he felt for her, and realized he held much of it back. She encouraged him to reveal some. The more he let go, the more animalistic he seemed. She allowed these primitive sensibilities to take over, and let go of any fears. She understood she would find the experience highly satisfying and that he had wanted this some time.

As he trembled under her, she realized she knew more about him than anyone. He had presented her information he had sequestered all his life. She slowly removed her hand from his face and tenderly took his lips in hers.

He couldn't really do anything but stare in appreciation and wonder. It was a little disturbing to know the details of how she felt about Trip. It was amazing how she felt about the engineer – stunning really. He knew she had emotions, but was surprised at their complexity. She didn't understand many of the emotions she felt, but he was able to interpret them. Her feelings for himself were just as mind blowing, and possibly more complex.

"You are speechless," she whispered.

"I am," he admitted softly. 

"You do not seem frightened," she commented.

"No. I'm not really frightened. Although I never imagined I'd share as much as I did with you."

"I will not betray your thoughts," she assured.

"I never really thought you would."

She stroked the side of his face in comfort.

"You said this mingling of our minds was not deep?" he asked. 

"No, Vulcans who have settled with each other exchange _every _thought. We did not. And, I did not probe to find your inner self. I only saw a glimpse of it."

"So, if you and I become more involved, you'll know every thought I have?" he asked, unsure he was ready for that.

"Yes. And you will know mine."

He twirled her hair in his fingers, remaining silent. He realized the sun had risen for a while. He hated to part. He wanted to hold her much longer and loaf around the camp.

"You indicated it would take a few hours to reach San Francisco?" she asked.

"Yes," he agreed. "It'll take most of the day to hike up."

"Perhaps we should get underway," she commented, almost leaving his embrace. 

"Just one more minute," he said, holding her to him a little longer. Although he wasn't sure he'd ever forget it, his heart panged to remember this. He kissed her again and let her up.

The two got dressed and began breaking down the camp in quiet.

Chapter Nineteen 

Toward the beginning of their hike back, Archer was contemplative. He thought about the event, still unsure it really happened. T'Pol seemed equally silent. She pondered whether she had done the right thing; she wondered if she was possibly caught up in the moment. She had urged him to lay bare his deepest desires and feelings for her. 

After an hour had passed without a word uttered between them, T'Pol decided to broach the subject. "I did not make you uncomfortable, did I?"

He stopped and held her hand. "No. I've just been replaying it in my mind. I'm just trying to sort it all out."

"What needs sorting?" she asked.

He scratched his head. "See, I don't even know. I just know I'd like to think about things."

"I hope you are not concerned about our relationship," she said with confusion.

He smiled and kissed her hand. "No, nothing like that. I just need a little time to understand your thoughts and mine."

She raised her eyebrow. "I understand. In your mind, I noted that you frequently ignore feelings. Perhaps our joining caused you to recognize some of them?"

"Maybe," he nodded.

"I also felt you did not wish me to see your desires."

Archer looked at the ground and confessed, "It's somewhat embarrassing."

"I did not find them so," she said. 

That was good to hear. He'd actually been worried about it. "That's a relief," he said.

She knew so much more about him. She rested her hand against his face. "Do you feel more vulnerable?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"You do not like that feeling," she commented.

"No, I don't like that feeling," he confided. "But, I do like sharing my thoughts with you. I just need a little time to process everything," he said.

She kissed him. "If you are baffled or upset, I hope you will talk with me."

He chuckled, "You're the only person I'd talk to."

They continued to make their way up until they reached the shuttle lot. Toward the end of the hike, Archer became more chatty and began to sing again. Humans, maybe Archer in particular, were irrepressible. He seemed to bounce back from the experience with vigor. 

Archer glided off his gear and loaded it into the pod, huffing. "I didn't expect the hike back to be so tough."

T'Pol said, "Perhaps it was because we shared thoughts. Charles often found the experience tiring."

Archer stopped when she mentioned his name, so she reached her hand around his. "Jonathan, I quickened the pace of our relationship for a reason. I understand your jealousy better now, but would advise you to let go of it."

He chuckled at his own stupidity.

"You are not unworthy of my feelings," she said, caressing his face.

She did understand his jealousy. "Am I the most jealous human you know?" he asked, teasingly trying to make the conversation easier.

"Undoubtedly."

"I guess I just want you all to myself," he whispered.

"And now you have that."

He smiled and entered the shuttle, carrying his water bottle with him. "California, here we come!" 

She got into the passenger seat and watched him work his hands over the controls. She thought about sitting in his lap and decided against it – it was a safety hazard.

Archer at that moment said, "Want to sit in my lap on the way home?"

She raised her eyebrow. "It is dangerous."

He grinned. "Yup."

"Do you think it is illogical?"

"Definitely. So you gonna climb over here or what?"

She crawled into his lap as they made their trek home.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	5. Change of Hearts part five

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part five 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five 

Chapter Twenty 

The next day, Archer awoke beaming. He'd never had a better night's sleep or felt so good about life. He was almost giddy. He stretched realizing T'Pol was already out of bed and in the kitchen.

He smelled something wafting down the halls – coffee? His eyes twinkled and he hurried out of bed, throwing his jeans on. He walked into the main area without a shirt, realizing why T'Pol was up so early. 

"Oh, shit," he mumbled. "I forgot about your meeting today." He noticed she was looking more Vulcan than usual. Her burgundy robes shimmered against her greenish-bronze skin. Her hair was tucked clearly behind her ears and her face was completely stoic.

She drank a cup of tea. "Beloved, do not concern yourself. We came home late. I did not expect you to rise so soon. Besides, I wanted to meditate this morning to prepare myself."

He thought about how she'd fallen asleep in his lap, making his legs go numb in the shuttle. She looked like an angel with her eyes closed; it was a shame to wake her last night.

"Did you eat?" he asked.

She nodded.

Archer got an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You didn't eat the cereal bars again, did you?"

"I could not find anything else and am unsure how to work these controls," she said pointing to his stove. 

He wasn't too sure how to work those controls either. But he felt guilty she'd had the same breakfast three days in a row. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry about that. Let me throw something together for you. I'd hate for you to meet with Soval on an empty stomach." 

"I am satiated," she informed him.

He poured some orange juice for her and put two slices of bread in his toaster. After they popped out, he smeared it with a non-sweetened jam and gave it to her. 

"Thank you," she noted. "I tried to work your coffee pot."

He looked at the tea-colored coffee. 'Definitely not strong enough,' he thought. He wet his lips, wondering how he'd tell her without hurting her feelings. "T'Pol …."

"I am unsure how to work those controls as well, but I know how much you like it."

He smirked. How could he keep from drinking the horrible mixture now? She pointed to a cup and mentioned, "I added milk for you."

He frowned. 'Love makes you do crazy things,' he thought. He held the cup in his hands and took a quick swig, hoping to get the flavor over with. It was just as awful as he imagined. He tried to keep his face from scrunching up as he said, "This is great."

She bit into her toast – obviously too sweet. Humans. She was amazed their entire mouth wasn't full of cavities. She raised an eyebrow at the grain and said, "And so is this."

He spied the look on her face and chuckled, "Well, maybe I can get a few things at the grocery store today. What would you like to have?"

She rattled off a list of unappetizing ingredients that were undoubtedly healthy. He nodded digging through a drawer to pull out a PADD so he could write this down.

She finished the last of her toast and asked, "Could you call a taxi for me?"

He shook his head. "No way. I'll take you there myself. I have a few errands to run."

She hesitated then recognized there was no arguing. 

"It'll take me fifteen minutes to get ready," he said, walking off to the bathroom. "Twenty if I have time to shave."

"I prefer you shave," she admitted.

He gave a lopsided smile and toddled off to the bathroom.

She liked his face and did not care for the hair that grew on it. Like Charles, his hair was somewhat scraggily and multi-colored. She had seen men who looked distinguished with a beard or moustache; however, Jonathan did not. 

True to his word, twenty minutes later and he was completely dressed. His hair was damp and his smile was brilliant. He threw a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and asked, "You ready to go?"

She gave a single nod and gathered her Vulcan robes around her. It had been almost a year since she had spoken with Soval. She did not expect the conversation to be pleasant. Somehow Jonathan sensed this and gave her a supportive kiss on the forehead. 

"Remember what I said about a field commission. You can tell Ambassador Soval to go to hell if you need to."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I appreciate your encouragement. I am certain some of the conversation will include his disapproval for what I have done. I am, however, uncertain he wishes me to report to the High Command again."

He put his arm around her as they made their way out the door and to the shuttle. "Well, I think you have the upper hand here. I just don't like the fact he's going to make you feel guilty for siding with the humans."

"I did not, I sided with you," she affirmed. 

He smiled broadly, letting her into the shuttle. "What time does your meeting end?"

"1400 hours," she said.

"I'm not sure I'll be done with my errands. If I give you some money and a security card, would you be able to make it back here?" he asked.

"I believe so," she agreed. 

He nodded and started to head off to the Vulcan consulate, he remembered occasionally heading there with his father to meet the snooty Ambassador Soval. He felt his eyes roll immediately.

As they approached the building, Jon was beginning to get a little nervous for her. "Just remember what I said about telling him to go to hell."

"I doubt I would tell the ambassador to meet the devil," she corrected.

"All the same, don't let him try to take advantage of you."

He pulled up in front of the door. He leaned over to kiss her, in front of Vulcan delegates who walked toward the building. She momentarily debated whether to greet his lips, or deny him, explaining why later. She decided to risk the scene and touched her mouth to his. He gave a wide, smug smile.

She chided, "Do not get over confident."

"You're my main squeeze. Why shouldn't I be cocky?" he joked. 

She lifted a single eyebrow as if to admonish his behavior, shut the shuttle door and walked stiffly into the building. He waited until she disappeared into the hallways and out of view. He sighed, hoping everything would go okay and decided to take care of a few things.

Chapter Twenty-One 

Archer was home sooner than he realized. He thought he may have time to head to the grocery store for the items on his list, but wanted to be there for T'Pol when she came home. It was later than she'd told him she'd arrive, so he nervously bided his time cleaning the house, hoping she'd be okay in San Francisco by herself. 

As Archer fidgeted with the remote for the computer, the door opened. He swung his attention toward her. He knew her well enough to know things did not go well.

He walked over to the door and took her in his arms. "What happened?"

"He did indeed offer me a position," she said. 

He kissed her cheek. "Doesn't sound too bad so far."

She furrowed her brows. He furrowed his back and gave her a smirk. He led her over to the kitchen table and took her into his lap. "Okay, so tell me what happened."

"It is complicated."

"Try me," he said. 

She took a deep breath and began, "He did … scold me for assisting with Enterprise's mission, resigning from the High Command and disregarding his orders. However, he … _allowed_ … me back. He claims to have forced me to make a hasty decision."

"Sounds only mildly annoying so far," he noted.

"He lectured me for several hours."

"You expected that, right?" he asked.

"He indicated he saw me kiss you," replied T'Pol.

"So, what?" dismissed Archer.

She said, "The lecture on that particular subject was quite long."

"Are you telling me that if you go report back to the Vulcan High Command, you won't be able to see me?"

"No, he did not say that," she countered. "He gave me a lecture on humans and … love."

"He doesn't know everything, T'Pol."

"I know."

He sighed, "Well, I'm talking to Forrest tomorrow. We'd already discussed offering you a field commission. He seemed not only agreeable, but enthusiastic about the idea. He knows how much you helped with the Xindi. I could ask him to make it official, get the paperwork started."

"Would you be doing this as my … boyfriend, or the captain?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"No," she replied. She knew if Soval had caught her kissing Charles, Jonathan would still support her.

"So, you're mulling over the idea to report back to High Command?" he asked.

"It _would _enable me to travel back to Vulcan," she admitted.

Archer could understand. "And you think by accepting a field commission, you wouldn't be allowed to go back?"

"I am unsure. Soval was … evasive in that regard," she said. 

Archer understood that. He held her to him and asked, "How much time do you have?"

"72 hours," she replied.

He ran his hand against her cheek and up her ear. "I'm sorry. Let me know what I can do … errrr, as the captain and as your boyfriend."

She met his lips. 

"What can I do for you to make things better right now?" he asked, kissing along her neck. "Chef gave me the recipe for Plomeek soup," he said. 

"Your … mushroom ravioli?" she suggested, knowing he would prefer it.

He beamed, "Now you're talking. You didn't really notice anything different in here."

She looked around his abode. It seemed the same. She raised her eyebrows. Archer took her chin and pointed her head to the right – toward a bunch of flowers. The flowers in season were carnations, but Archer tracked down the right grower for a bird of paradise; it looked like one of the flowers he saw in her mind from Vulcan when their thoughts merged.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "I did not notice. My apologies. They look like a flower from my home world."

"I also printed the pictures from our trip – they're in my room. Want me to get them?"

She furrowed her brow, still considering the conversation with Soval. She didn't mention to Jonathan that the ambassador was cold. He told her humans had many liaisons and that his intrigue with her was undoubtedly fleeting. He would toss her away and she would be disgraced. Her mind had inadvertently gone to Charles. It was true of him. Perhaps it would be true of Jonathan. He seemed so entranced by her, but deep feelings vanished quickly for humans. In fact, they had several mates throughout their lives. 

She looked at him. "No, I do not want to see pictures at this time."

He saw her still turning the events over. "Need me to leave you alone?" he asked.

"No," she admitted. She noticed Jonathan was looking at her with deep concern. He wanted to make the situation better and seemed helpless to assist her. 

She ran her hand along his face. "Tell me your feelings for me."

He beamed. "You're the last thing I think about before I go to bed, and the first thing I think about when I get up." He hugged her and held her a few minutes, trying to squeeze out the problems she'd had to endure.

She seemed comforted.

He grinned. "Well, if it's mushroom ravioli you want, then that's what you're gonna get." He picked up his grocery list on the PADD and added a few items. He leaned over and kissed her lips. "Why don't you light a few candles. I'll be back soon."

He grabbed a jacket and headed out the door. She looked after it wondering how this man could be more endearing. She decided to take a shower and slip into a robe. She wanted to look alluring to him when he returned. She scented herself, which she rarely did, and looked in the mirror. 

"To be wanted is illogical," she said to herself. And yet, she wanted to allure him, make him surrender to her. Perhaps Jonathan was right about new relationships – they had more physical intimacy than mature relationships. She brushed her hair when she heard a knock at the door. 

Chapter Twenty-Two 

T'Pol walked to it hesitantly and opened it. She raised her eyebrow as far as it could reach.

"I was told I'd find you here," said Trip. He saw her robe and became transfixed with it. He scooped her into his arms and brought her to him.

"It does appear you have located me," she said. 

He walked past her and noticed the room. Her bags were in the middle of the living room. 

"That couch fold out?" joked Tucker, not realizing T'Pol and Archer were intimate.

"Yes," she commented.

"Good," he said with a grin. "Listen, I was an idiot to leave you."

T'Pol was confused. "I do not understand."

"I don't know. I was back in Florida, looking at the stars and thought about the night we first made love. Do you remember?" he asked.

She looked away. "Yes."

"You were jealous of another woman -- Amanda. You, a Vulcan, were jealous. I never thought you'd return any of my feelings, nor want me in your life … and yet you did. I was so shocked and honored, I couldn't keep my hands or mind off of ya."

She remained silent.

"I knew it was your first experience with an Earthling. I wasn't sure if it was your first experience with a man. I just remember you being so vulnerable … much more so than I thought. I know you feel things deeply, T'Pol, even if you are Vulcan. I guess I just expect to hear them sometimes."

She didn't say anything.

"I need to hear your thoughts more often. I need to feel wanted, honey," he said slipping his hands around her waist. His hands turned over the knot in the robe's tie.

She backed away from his reach and asked, "Why did you not discuss this with me _then_?"

"I don't know. Maybe I got scared. Hell, this is the first serious relationship I've had in a while. I thought maybe I cared about you more than you could ever care about me," he confided. "I just need you in my life. I'd like to hold you …"

"I am uncertain I can provide either."

"Well, I knew that was a risk. But, I think we can give it a shot."

T'Pol looked into his eyes and said, "I am not so certain."

"I still think about us sharing thoughts. You recall that? The first time you let our minds touch?" he asked.

"I do," she said.

"What'd you see?" he asked.

"Explosive passion. Desire. Heat. Warmth. Need. Amorous love. Fire," she repeated, recalling the incident as if it were yesterday.

"You were like a desert at about twilight. Hot, but still. It's like you were … vast and scorched. I felt those deep feelings … your feelings, but not in the way I expected."

"I do not think it helps to reminisce," she responded. 

He noticed her robe showed off her skin. "But, you're in my mind," he said. He pulled her to him and put his hot breath on her lips. "You're in my heart. I'm not afraid anymore."

"Regardless. My feelings for you over the course of the past month have changed. You asked me to think of you as a friend. I have done little else this month than put you in that context. I have retrained and retooled my thoughts."

"You can't tell me what we had wasn't passionate or satisfying," he said, placing his lips on hers with fiery zeal.

T'Pol had forgotten what it was like to kiss him. His thoughts pounded to the surface; he was easily readable. Every thought was available for the taking. Jonathan was more guarded and cautious; his thoughts came to the surface slowly and in waves. Charles' lips teased hers as the shock of his sudden movement was beginning to wear off. 

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. His hands encircled her and he moaned into her throat, as the door swung open.

Archer was carrying a box of groceries and a smile that slowly faded into astonishment. He saw T'Pol and Trip, wrapped in each other's arms. He noticed T'Pol in a bathrobe. He saw Trip's hand darting down wanting to open it, as his tongue pushed into her mouth. He wasn't sure how long he stood their gaping, but felt like it was forever. He couldn't even look away; he could only stare. He was stunned.

Trip turned slightly and noticed Jon hanging in the doorway. "Hey, Jon," he said bashfully separating from T'Pol. "Sorry, Hoshi said T'Pol was staying with you. I just had to see her."

T'Pol drew a long breath. This was not what she had intended. She knew Jonathan well enough to know he was hiding a tsunami of emotion. His jealousy no doubt was beginning to bubble deep within him. She didn't want to kiss Trip. She thought he wouldn't want further embraces. She knew Jonathan had gotten the wrong idea. She backed away from the engineer instinctively and looked into Jon's eyes. 

Archer was completely unaware of what to do. He felt like a statue; he was only able to watch. His mouth came only slightly unhinged as he tried to think of the right thing to say.

"You can come on into your own place, Jon," teased Trip. He ran his hand along T'Pol's robe as she backed away further.

"Uhm," began Archer as he took a clumsy misstep forward.

Trip walked over and picked up the box. "Well, don't worry about cooking extra. I can't stay. I told my family I'd be home before midnight. I just … I just wanted to let you know how I felt, T'Pol." He placed the box of groceries on the kitchen table. "You don't have to answer me yet, just think about it. Maybe we can hook up on Saturday. That work for you?"

She was only able to nod her head once. 

"Thanks for taking care of her," tossed out Trip as he clapped Jon on the back. "I'm glad you were able to put her up while she's on Earth. I doubt she'd wanna stay at the consulate."

Archer's mouth hung open, as he was sure his friend was unaware of his relationship with T'Pol. Trip furrowed his brow at the two who seemed unusually quiet and said, "T'Pol, honey, I'll call ya tomorrow."

With that, he walked out. Archer stared at T'Pol and then decided his gaze couldn't meet her eyes. He headed over to the groceries and began to put things away, noisily. 

T'Pol watched his behavior, realizing he was becoming more and more irate, as he knocked back cabinet doors with a loud thud and smacked the door of the refrigerator shut, shaking the unit.

"Jonathan, let me explain," she began. "I told him I was unsure of my feelings for him." 

With a dramatic whack, Archer slammed the drawer back into place. "Oh, I don't think I need an explanation to know what was going on!" he shouted, spinning around to look at her. 

She backed away for a moment, watching his nostrils flare. She had never seen him this angry. She drew her robe around her.

"It's obvious you don't give a damn about me. I'm gone for an hour, and I have to come back and see you and Trip …." 

"I did not intend to kiss him," she explained.

He paced into his living room feeling incredibly worked up. He growled, "What if I hadn't come back so soon?!"

"I did not realize he wanted an embrace," she said softly. "I had no intention of allowing him to continue it. Perhaps, if you calm down …." 

He thought about their tongues mixing with fury. "Didn't want to continue his embrace?! That's rich! You looked like a willing partner to me!" he yelled.

"His emotions momentarily confused me …." 

"God!" Cold reality slapped him on the face. "What more could I have done?! I've given you everything! I've listened to you, been there for you and talked about your feelings for Trip. And this is what I get?!!" he shouted. 

"I can understand how you feel. However, …."

"You can understand how I feel?! Really? You mean betrayed? Stabbed in the back? Mad? Used? Discarded? Tossed away to let the man who broke you heart come waltzing back in?! I feel hurt, T'Pol. Stupid. I feel like after everything … _everything _… I've done … after everything that's happened between us, I mean nothing to you. How could you do this to me?"

"You mean a great deal to me," she said, walking over to try and comfort him, reaching her hand out to touch his arm. 

"How could you?!" he barked, jerking his body away from her grasp.

"Jonathan, I did not intend for that to happen," she offered. "You are very important."

"Yeah," he began sarcastically. "I'm so important, that I'm gone for one fucking hour and have to come back to see you and Trip make out!"

"We did not 'make out.' I believe you are over-reacting," she began, softly, trying to calm him.

"I'm over-reacting?! How the hell am I supposed to react? Should I have offered my couch for you two, pulled the bed out and waited in my bedroom?!!" he rattled back. His breathing was raspy and his body trembled with anger. 

"I would not expect you to invite him to stay with me, nor do I want that," she said.

He roared, "Damn right I'm not going to invite him to stay here!" He loomed over her threateningly. She knew he would not hurt her, but seeing his temper tantrum was unsettling and disturbing.

"It may help this conversation if you discontinue raising your voice," she said.

"I can raise my damned voice in my own damned apartment if I want to!"

"You are acting irrationally. I can understand you feel jealous …."

He screamed, "Of course I'm jealous! Jesus. I'm also frustrated and …. "

"I believe we have discussed my feelings for you – they are strong." She could see his chest continue to heave. "I am uncertain about my feelings for Charles."

Archer just shook his head angrily, clenching his fists.

"That does not mean I prefer him. If you calm yourself, perhaps we can continue …."

"Damnit, T'Pol! Well, if you want Trip – fine! Here's the security card to my rental pod," he said slamming it down on the kitchen table. "Go ahead and jaunt off to Florida."

"I do not believe you mean that. I believe you are saying it in the heat of the moment," she said.

"Oh, don't I?!" he yelled. He narrowed his eyes at her, stomped off to his bedroom and slammed the door as if to punctuate his point. 

He fell onto his bed, trying to steady his breath. How could she do this to him? He relived the same image over and over in his mind – their kiss. He could see Trip's face clearly; he was in ecstasy. Life was so damned unfair. His life was so damned unfair. The first wound had been to the gut when he found out that Trip and T'Pol were involved. When he'd hardened his resolve, steeled his emotions and accepted their relationship, things were easier. After kicking back his emotions and beating down every thought about the two; Trip made a colossally stupid move and dumped her. Only then was there a glimmer of hope – fleeting though it may have been. She had whispered his name and said she desired him. To beat all, his time in Yosemite and the Grand Canyon were the best times he'd had in years … in fact, the best time in recent or long-term memory. 

But, after all that – all the good times and sweet moments, the touching and affection they shared, the deep conversations, the touching of minds -- she kissed Trip. Life was so damned unjust! And doing so in his apartment was a stab in the heart and a twist of the knife.

He knew Vulcans had two hearts; it was a scientific fact. Humans only had one. 'Maybe,' he thought to himself sadly, 'Vulcans can be in love with two people – one for each heart.' He shook his head. Number one – Vulcans couldn't love. And number two -- it was obvious that Trip was more important to her.

He starred up at he ceiling, wishing all emotions could be whipped back into place. His resentment and anger were withering into despair. He tasted joy and happiness, and felt like it would never be able to seep back into his life again. So be it.

Chapter Twenty-Three 

T'Pol looked at the closed door. This was the man she knew from the Expanse. It was difficult to differentiate the two at times. On this excursion she'd begun to remember Jonathan as the man she respected and cared for. She also realized, he could stir deep emotions within her. 'Ocean' was an excellent analogy for him. He was usually peaceful, calm and still with small waves created out of excitement or enthusiasm. But, he was also a hurricane of volatile emotions that seemed to gather strength and blow to shore with resounding force. She glanced over at the rental pod card and dismissed the thought of leaving. 'He may want me to leave, but I do not wish to go like this,' she thought. 'I would regret it, as most likely would he.'

Trip did stir feelings in her, but there was a part of her that wondered whether the man would deny her again. She was unsure whether their relationship could be as meaningful as it once was. She sat down on the couch and meditated, cleansing her mind of the emotions Jonathan railed against her, and the ones that she felt for both men. 

After waiting for an hour, she decided to knock on Jon's door. She did so hesitantly, afraid he'd resume his temper tantrum. When he did not answer the first time, she rapped on the door. He didn't answer a second time. 

She opened it and slunk into a darkened room to find Jon lying on the bed, his back turned toward the door.

"Are you still angry?" she asked softly. 

"No," she heard a weak voice confess.

"May I speak with you?"

"Okay," he said, still facing away.

She slowly walked to the bed, half-expecting he would yell at her again. When he didn't, she sat down on the bed next to him and caressed his hair.

"I apologize that you found Commander Tucker and I in a compromising situation. I …."

He interrupted, "Listen, I'm sorry, T'Pol. I'm glad you didn't leave; I would've felt awful. You never lied to me. You never misled me. I always knew where I stood with you. And, if you want Trip back … well, I guess I support you."

What? She wasn't sure she wanted Charles. "I am unsure who …."

"I, uh, need to do a few things this week. I have a meeting with Admiral Forrest and am meeting an old friend tomorrow night. You can stay here on the couch, or I can sleep there if you'd like the bed."

"Jonathan," she said. She pulled him gently toward her and could tell, even in the darkness, his eyes were brilliantly green and dry, but the lashes around them slightly wet. She caressed his face, as he pulled away from her. Perhaps Soval was right. Was he tossing her away?

"You are very dear to me," she said.

"I did expect too much, too soon. I just thought maybe you'd feel the same way about me as you do Trip."

"You are two different men. I feel differently about each of you. I thought you understood that."

"Yeah," he shot back, sadly. "I've been able to curb my feelings before, I can do so again." He took her hand in his and held it platonically.

"I have not come to a decision," she said. 

"I think you have," he whispered back. "I'll be there, I guess – just like before. I guess you can count on that; I'll always be your friend."

She began, "Jonathan …."

"You're still my friend. I mean, I still love you," he whispered. God, that was an understatement; he'd always love her. "I just … I want you to be happy. And, it seems Trip can do that for you. You still need a place to stay for the meantime. I still want to be around you."

She furrowed her brows. 'Deep and still,' she thought to herself, thinking of the sea. She lay down on the bed next to him, resting her head on a pillow. She clarified, "You want me to stay, but only as a friend?"

He said in a strained voice, "I think that's for the best."

He was important to her. How could he not see that? "You do not wish for us to be _together_?" she asked.

"I wish it. I just think it'd be easier for me … for the long-term not to be with you," he said, choked with emotion.

"I did not wish to embrace him. He caught me unaware," she reiterated.

"I saw the look in his eye, T'Pol. He was thrilled. Your confessions to me about him seem to mean you're more interested in him than you want to admit."

"I do not know. Being with you has been quite extraordinary," she commented. "You have been pleasant company in all respects. And, the depth of feeling you have for me is … moving."

He smiled weakly. "You've been pleasant company, too. And, my feelings for you won't change. It seems like we both need some time."

She raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Are you certain?" She wanted his lips on hers and his arms to envelop her. Perhaps it was desire. Most likely, it was something else, something deeper and more complex. 

She rolled over to him and took him into her arms, hugging him. He sagged into her and went limp; he was unresponsive. 

Being held by her made him feel sadder. He was so weary. He was the kind of tired he'd been in the Expanse – bone-achingly and emotionally exhausted. She planted a kiss on his forehead and sat up. 

"You seem fatigued," she asked. It was only 1800 hours.

"I am," he admitted.

"Would you like to change and prepare for bed?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Do you want the bed, or the couch?"

"I will take the couch," she said. 

"The sheets should be on it. I have another pillow in the hall closet. Let me get it for you," he said, starting to drag himself out of bed.

"No, do you not concern yourself. I can retrieve it."

He nodded. 

"Just relax and close your eyes."

His body gave into rest immediately as he sank into the bed. The world was swallowing him up. He was thoroughly indulging in self-pity, lapping up every ounce of it. When he shut his eyes, right before going to sleep, he sometimes had the feeling of falling. Occasionally, it would jerk him awake. But, tonight he gave into the sensation. He wanted to fall.

She sensed he was overwhelmingly sad. And it hurt her to know she had caused him pain. She could understand why he needed some time to let the relationship cool as she made a decision. Jonathan seemed to know what the decision was, but T'Pol was anything but sure. Both men had their merits. They both meant a great deal to her. They both had touched her in ways she had not expected. They were different. Jonathan was more mature in his love – it was physical, but not frenzied. It was affectionate and caring, more than wanton and searing. Charles was more eager in his passion. That was not to say Charles didn't love her completely, or that Jonathan was an inadequate lover. On the contrary, she marveled at Trip's love and appreciated Jon's bedroom finesse.

But, if Charles meant so much to her, why did she admit to feeling desire for Jonathan? Changing mates was highly unusual for Vulcans. Many thoughts and feelings needed to be dissected, not to mention how she regarded Soval's offer to report to the High Command.

Jon's breathing became slowed and more relaxed. 

She stared down into his face, studying the tiny laugh lines around his eyes, his small pink lips, the cleft hiding in the stubble of his chin and his long dark lashes. She paused on his nose and thought how much more attractive it made him; he would not be Jonathan without it. She wanted to brush the tip with her finger, but stopped short. She noticed a small freckle on his right cheek. She had not seen it there before. How did she miss mapping that spot on his handsome face?

He looked fragile somehow when he was asleep; he seemed boyish and sweet. She remembered watching him in their tent at the Grand Canyon remarking on how peaceful the man was with his eyes closed.

After a few more minutes of noting his features, she gathered herself up and went to the living room to unfold the bed. 

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	6. Change of Hearts part six

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part six 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven 

Chapter Twenty-Four 

T'Pol woke up the next morning quite early. She felt unsettled with how they had left things the previous night and thoroughly confused. She had, in truth, been worried about Archer and his feelings. She held back the urge to walk into his bedroom and check on him; she felt she no longer had that right. She instead felt it necessary to make him breakfast. 

She retrieved a PADD with cooking instructions and began to read ingredients, noting the food he already had. She decided eggs would be adequate. As a vegan, she hated all meat. She hated the idea of touching it, but felt she needed to make some kind of amends. She took several eggs from the carton, butter, milk and other items and began preparing them. She also read the instructions on making coffee. She decided to try it, to see if it had the same flavor it did at breakfast the previous day.

After thirty minutes, Archer walked out. He was definitely glum. He shuffled in, wearing a shirt and pants and sat heavily at the breakfast table.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Well, and yourself?" she returned.

"Fine," he lied. He'd tossed and turned almost all night, replaying all the events in his mind. 

He traced his finger along the table as she handed him a cup of coffee. He eyed it; it looked darker than the day before. She walked over and put milk in it. He said, "That's plenty, thanks."

He took it to his lips, preparing to want to spit it out and was surprised it tasted … good. He saw T'Pol making eggs. "What are you doing?"

"I am making breakfast for you. You have a meeting with Admiral Forrest today. I wanted you to be well fed. Besides, you could gain some weight."

This idea of having her stay was a lot harder than he'd thought. Just seeing her looking a little frazzled, making breakfast, made him love her even more … if it was possible. He got up and put his chin on her shoulder without thinking and said, "You're making a meat breakfast for me?"

She enjoyed the feeling of him resting on her. She rubbed her hand along his face, drawing his attention as he was engaging in physical contact. He backed away and said, "That's not necessary. Here, why don't you let me finish? I know the smell makes you want to gag."

"I have not felt nauseous since I began," she countered, trying to hold her stomach in check. She turned toward him. "Jonathan, I would like to resume our discussion from last night."

The small gleam in his eye extinguished. "I don't."

She sighed internally. She slipped his eggs and toast on the plate and gave it to him.

"I do not believe you know the intimacy involved in how we mingled minds," she said. "It is extremely private. If I did not have very strong feelings for you, I never would have begun it."

He trudged over and sat at the table. He really didn't want to argue. "I saw into your mind, T'Pol. I know you're in love with him, and don't give me some Vulcan answer about not having any emotions. I _felt_ them. Humans call that love." He tucked into his eggs, hoping this conversation would just go away.

"And what did you feel in my mind for you?" she asked.

He put down his fork. "I felt a lot of confusion is what I felt. What did you see in my mind?"

"Definitely love," she responded without hesitation.

"You don't get it. I'm not obligating or guilting you into being with me. I'm just trying to give you some space to make the right decision, rather than the decision that feels right, right now."

"In my mind, you must have felt more than just confusion," she said. "I know that I feel lust …." 

"I know you feel lust for me, T'Pol," he said, gnawing at his toast. Why was she doing this? 

"No, more than just lust. My emotions for you are equally deep," she countered. 

"I didn't see that last night," he asserted. This was not what he'd planned at all. He just wanted to be pleasant, ignore the problem and go to his meeting.

"Jonathan, look past your own self-doubts and you would know my feelings for you."

"Trip wants you back into his life, right? He was here first. You love him. Seems pretty open and shut to me," he said, playing with his food. "Don't get me wrong, T'Pol … I want to be in your life. I just want you to make a decision, and I'm trying to give you the room to do it … logically."

His computer console chimed with an incoming communication. He stood reluctantly, shuffled over to the computer and punched the button. Trip's visage appeared on the other end. Irritation tickled Archer's skin.

"Hey, Jon!" said Trip, wearing a tropical shirt.

"Hey, Trip," he replied, trying to push down the anger in his voice. "How's the family?"

"Doing fine, thanks. Listen, is T'Pol around? I don't have a lot of time, and wanted to make arrangements for dinner tomorrow."

Archer's thumb played with the idea of cutting the message off. He instead looked over his shoulder and said, "You have a call."

She looked apologetic and headed over to the machine. She leaned in, "Charles, I did not expect your call so early."

"Well, you know how impulsive I can be," he grinned. 

"Yes, I do," she agreed.

"I was hoping to take you to the 602 as a warm up and then end the evening at the Lounge, a restaurant on the top story of a bank tower. You can see all of San Fran from up there. You can even see the bay."

T'Pol looked over at Archer. "Would you like me to invite Jon?" she asked.

"Well, I guess he could come, but I was planning this as a lovers' only kind of affair," he joked. T'Pol could hear Jon walk into his bathroom and start the shower. 

T'Pol decided now was her opportunity to set things straight. "Charles, we have much to discuss. Since you ended our relationship, I have …."

"Honey, I wish I had more time to talk." He noticed frustration building up in her eyes. "This is important, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Why don't we discuss it tomorrow when I'm in town. Can you wait until then?"

"It appears I do not have a choice," she countered.

"I'm real sorry, we've been planning a memorial visit to where we think Lizzie was killed. My older sister wants to plant a tree. I think my momma would kill me if I didn't attend."

"Of course," said T'Pol.

"You know I love you, right?" he said.

"No," she countered.

Trip scrunched his face up and said, "Well, I do. I'll see you tomorrow around 5:00. And, if you're fired up to have Jon join us, why don't we take him out for drinks beforehand. I guess he did put my girl up for a few nights."

T'Pol was about to open her mouth when Trip said, "Ah, hell. I gotta go. Love ya."

With that he ended the conversation; the screen faded to black. Things at the Tucker house seemed like a whirl of activity. She could only imagine what Tucker's mother was like. She had seen her in his mind – a woman with a lot of 'gumption' as Charles would say, but a lot of love.

She stood and walked over to Jon's bedroom. She knocked on the door and didn't hear an answer. She walked in and heard the water rushing. She walked into the steamy bathroom. He was leaning against the shower stall. Something about the act seemed personal … private. She wanted to go to him, open the door … but felt she couldn't. 

She could barely make out his outline, but still found it incredibly attractive. She withdrew from the room and instead knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he called out, bringing himself to life. "I'll be out in a second."

"Very well," she replied.

She walked back into the kitchen and began clearing away her cooking. After everything was picked up, Jon walked out in his dress uniform – it looked like a carbon copy of what Forrest wore. He walked over to his coffee and said, "So, what'd Trip have to say?"

She thought he looked very becoming, noting his uniform was much more appealing than the one the humans wore aboard the ship. "He wanted to know if you want to join us for … drinks … at the 604 club."

Archer smiled and corrected, "602."

"Of course," she agreed. 

Jon thought that would be _the _most awkward gathering he'd been at in a while. His girlfriend … well, not anymore … who possibly wanted his best friend back. It was making his head hurt. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it."

"Oh," she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Hey, after my meeting with Forrest, I'd like to take you to the art museum. Sound like fun?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

He sipped his coffee and said, "I'm sure. I just gotta get back by 7:00. I'm meeting a friend for dinner."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, you don't mind if she comes here to meet me, do you?" he asked.

"She?" 

"I told you about her – Rebecca," said Archer.

"Oh." A tinge of jealousy crept up her spine. It was illogical, but there.

"Anyway, I think you'll like her. So, I plan to be out of Forrest's office at around noon. Want to meet me downtown? I can leave you the pod," he said.

"No, you take the pod. I will order a taxi."

"Okay. Meet you at Starfleet HQ?" he asked.

"Certainly."

He smiled. Almost out of habit he leaned over to kiss her, but pulled away in the nick of time. He sighed; acting like friends would take a little getting used to.

Chapter Twenty-Five 

T'Pol, donned in her Vulcan robes, waited outside of HQ for Archer. She attracted few stares; Starfleet personnel were infinitely aware of Vulcans. After waiting for approximately 20 minutes, Archer came around the bend. 

"Sorry," he apologized right away. "Forrest was running a little late."

"I was not waiting long."

Archer checked his watch. Twenty minutes was a long time to him. "Well, how would you like to see one of the best art museums in the West Coast?"

"Are we going to Seattle? I thought we were staying in San Francisco."

Archer's grin faded. "I like San Francisco Museum of Modern Art better."

"My apologies," she offered. "Did your meeting go well?"

He began walking to a large pod garage. "Went about as well as I expected."

He seemed unusually quiet about it. "Did Forrest ask Enterprise to continue its original mission?"

"Yes," he said.

He fumbled with his security card as they neared the vehicle.

"And?" she asked.

He was surprised at her impatience. He didn't want to tell her that he had also received a lecture from Forrest about the evils of getting involved with people aboard the ship _and_ people from alien cultures no less. Apparently Soval had talked with him after watching the two exchange a quick peck in front of the Vulcan Consulate. 

"That's about it."

"Soval contacted Admiral Forrest," commented T'Pol. It was only logical that's why Jonathan had remained so tight-lipped.

Archer hemmed and hawed, opening the door for her. "Well, yes. Soval called Forrest and I also received a small lecture. He reminded me of Starfleet regulations, integrity and a couple of other things. He also questioned my request for a field commission for you."

"I am not bound by Starfleet regulations," she offered. What was she doing? Archer had asked her to cool their relationship.

He raised his eyebrow, mocking her, teasingly. "I mentioned that to him." He was glad she brought it up. 

He started the pod and began flying to the art museum. "I hope you told him to … mind his own business," she said, using his words, minus the expletive. 

He grinned, "Sure did." He noticed her looking out into the city and asked, "So, what did you do?"

"I thought about my decision, amongst other things."

"Come to any conclusions?" he asked.

"Not at this time. I also meditated."

He parked the pod and hopped out. The red building looked like something out of the Southwest, T'Pol concluded. It also had a hint of antiquity. She understood that it was built in the 20th century. Although it had been renovated and brought up to code, many of the same features remained, including the spires emanating from it.

The museum wasn't very busy during the day, but lots of school children piled up around the front, waiting to enter. Their teacher looked completely harried, counting and recounting children as they impatiently waited to go in. T'Pol watched him smile at a couple of the kids, and carefully walk past. One little girl, running, plowed into the side of him. He seemed unfazed and gently pushed her off toward her group.

"Are all human children like this?" she asked.

He looked at the kids, screaming with glee as the teacher tried to calm them down. "Pretty much," he replied, walking into the building.

As they pushed through a modern turnstile, Archer walked toward the admission desk. "Two," he requested. 

Archer put his hand on the small of T'Pol's back and began to lead her into the museum. As they entered, T'Pol was impressed with the various sculptures, paintings and multi-media art that littered the contemporary walls. She marveled at the grand scale of the place.

"Most impressive," she noted.

"I thought you'd like this place," he replied.

"Indeed," she commented.

As they made their way around, Archer and T'Pol discussed the artwork. Archer told her what little information he knew about the artist, discussed what it might be and heard her interpretation. As they milled around, he nearly grabbed her hand … many times. Every time he reached for it, he clenched his fists, fighting back the urge

He wasn't surprised she liked renaissance artists. "The idea of a mathematical painting is quite intriguing," she said. She stood in front of "La Guernica" by Picasso for minutes, pacing back and forth. 

Archer watched her with fascination. Her eyes memorized every line and her eyebrow shot up in reflection at least once.

"Like that one?" he asked.

"Very much. It is simplistic, yet complex. The lines are chaotic like war itself."

Archer crossed his arms across his chest and said, "You know, I wouldn't expect you to like this one the most out of his work. It has more … flair than his other drawings."

"Perhaps. But, even I can appreciate something that is aesthetically pleasing rather than logical," she said, leveling her eyes at him.

"Hmm," he said aloud, wondering if there was a deeper meaning to her comment.

She wasn't surprised he enjoyed the black and white photography of Ansel Adams and Flordendez. When they got to the photography section, Archer seemed to light up. He took her arm and said, "Look at this one." 

She stared at a picture of Yosemite Falls. "We have been there."

"Yes, we have. Not during the dead of winter. I've always wanted to go snow camping there." He marveled at it. "The light and shadows are really spectacular. I wish I could take photographs like that."

"He was obviously not busy with his role as a Starfleet captain," she teased.

After four hours, they came to the end. A gift shop and a restaurant were immediately available. "Feel like shopping?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrow and he said, "Right. Guess not." He looked over at the café and heard his stomach rumble. "Want to grab a bite to eat?"

She gave a single nod. Apparently, more Vulcans hung out in San Francisco than other parts of California. The wait staff seemed only mildly interested in the Vulcan. And, they seemed pleased to have her. After a couple of hours of talking, discussing what they'd seen and Jon answering her multitude of questions – like why did Frida Kahlo abhor her own body – he looked down at his watch. 

"Oh, shit," he said. He tried to flag down the waitress.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Rebecca is meeting me at my place in about an hour."

"I did not realize we had been here so long," she commented. 

A moment passed as their eyes met each other's. Archer broke the eye contact as the waitress approached. He settled the bill and urged them quickly into the shuttle pod and back home. As soon as he got home, he popped into his bedroom and began changing.

T'Pol heard a knock on the door and debated whether to answer, or to alert Jonathan. She decided she would go with human customs and creaked it open. In front of her was an Earth woman about 38 years of age with chestnut hair and a warm smile. 

"You must be T'Pol," said Rebecca, extending her hand.

T'Pol looked at it and said, "I apologize. Vulcans do not greet this way."

"Oh. Well, I'm Rebecca," she saw a blank expression on the Vulcan's face and decided to continue. "I've known Jon for years."

"He has told me about you," said T'Pol coolly.

"Right. Can I come in?" she asked with a smile.

"Of course. My apologies."

Rebecca walked into the room and put down her purse on the chair in the kitchen. "So, are you enjoying your stay on Earth?" She looked at his place – hadn't changed a bit.

"Yes."

Rebecca hoped Jon would quickly appear; making small talk with this Vulcan seemed impossible. "I understand you went to Yosemite Falls. That's one of his favorites. He took me there when we first started dating," she mentioned.

"I did not realize that."

The Earth woman was amused, "Yeah, he insisted on eating breakfast at the lodge every day, and every night had to start a fire. Men, huh?"

"Is it not common for men to build fires?" she asked, confused at what the woman meant.

The human woman watched Jon's bedroom door praying to be rescued. "Uhm, I suppose. And then you went to the Grand Canyon?"

"Yes," she replied. 

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

"It was a pleasant experience," commented T'Pol.

Rebecca smiled and eyed the door again. "Maybe I should just knock …."

He finally stepped out looking absolutely stunning – he had on a pair of black slacks and a turtleneck that almost matched the color of his eyes. "Beck!"

They exchanged a kiss on the cheek. "You look great," he said.

"You're not looking too bad yourself," she tossed back. T'Pol watched the woman eye him leeringly.

"I take it you met T'Pol," he said, beaming.

"Yes," Rebecca answered a little too quickly.

Jon turned toward T'Pol wondering what she'd do and said, "You're welcome to accompany us, if you'd like."

Rebecca behind him rolled her eyes at the thought of the boring Vulcan honing in on their evening.

T'Pol noticed the woman's displeasure and commented, "No, thank you."

He said, "Well, I have a couple of meals you might enjoy in the refrigerator. And you already have a security card to the apartment, right?"

"Yes," she commented. 

He smiled at her and said, "I'll be home around 11 p.m. I'll see ya then."

T'Pol walked them to the door and saw Rebecca weave her arm in Jon's and walk down the hall. Something felt very distracting about seeing his ex-girlfriend. It felt worse to know the woman was pretty by human standards and that Jon was excited upon seeing her. T'Pol was used to humans needing to make small talk, but she didn't understand why she had been so rude to the woman. 

T'Pol gathered a cup of tea and headed over to the couch to read the report from Enterprise on the scanner efficiency to determine the next logical step. She decided her evening would be non-eventful and restorative. She would mediate, sleep and think rationally about her relationship with Charles and Jonathan.

Chapter Twenty-Six 

T'Pol found herself pacing, unexplainably as the clock on the wall turned to 2 a.m. She wished Jon had taken a communicator so she could contact him. She wanted to ensure the door was open, thinking perhaps he didn't bring his key. 

She turned back to the clock and watched the minutes tick by. Finally, after nearly wearing a hole in the carpet, she heard the door open.

Archer walked in, surprised to see T'Pol not only up, but obviously waiting for him. He scratched his head as she began to smell the alcohol on him. 

"I take it you went to a bar?" she asked.

He backed up a little, almost stepping into the hall. "No, Beck asked me over to her place." He saw her face turn more stern and walked in tentatively. "I hope you weren't worried. I thought about calling you, but Beck thought you were probably asleep."

"I am certain she did," said T'Pol quietly.

"God, I'm sorry I kept you up worrying," he said, taking his key and wallet and setting it down on the table.

T'Pol folded her arms and asked, "What were you doing?"

"Well, we had dinner at an Italian place we used to go to, walked around Union Square and then headed over to her place."

"And?" she inquired.

"And, then I came here. Is there something bothering you?"

T'Pol had no right to ask, but felt a question bubbling up in her mind, unable to squash it. "You were there quite late."

Archer raised both eyebrows and dropped his jaw. "Yes?"

"Were you doing anything in … particular?"

"No," he said. He felt she was getting at something, but was having a hard time piecing it together.

"I see," she noted.

"T'Pol are you getting at something?"

"No," she replied, pulling out the couch into a bed.

"Are you … jealous?"

"Vulcans do not become jealous."

"You're acting kinda weird," he said, kicking off his shoes.

"Weird? I assure you, I feel fine. I was merely concerned about you and your safety." She lay down between the sheets and turned the light off.

Archer felt the whole conversation was odd. He turned the light back on and said sternly, "That was impolite."

"I believed the conversation to be over. I apologize for how you perceived my actions."

He furrowed his brow and smirked, "So, is this because I was out late with my ex-girlfriend?"

She turned over, away from him, bringing the blanket up to her neck. "No. I indicated Vulcans do not become jealous."

"Okay," he said. He turned off the light as she flipped over and turned it back on. 

"However, perhaps this is an opportune moment to discuss how we can continue …."

Archer folded his arms and said, "Well, we're not in a relationship. Right? Unless …."

"I believed you wanted to give me ample time to determine my thoughts on you and Commander Tucker. I am not certain I needed to …"

This conversation was going nowhere fast. He put his hands on his hips and said, "Well, you did kiss him. You still have feelings for him. I saw your love for him in your mind. Anyway … why are we talking about this?"

She raised her eyebrow and sat up. "Jonathan, you asked me to stay. Is it an inconvenience?"

"No," he countered. "Although this is very confusing. I mean, you're having dinner with him tomorrow night and may …."

"May?" she inquired, asking him to finish his sentence.

Archer shifted his hips and threw his head back at the ceiling. "He may want to … spend the night with you." This was a torturous conversation.

"I would not want to," she clarified, hoping he'd offer some information about Rebecca.

He let out a small sigh of relief, "Well, you don't have anything to worry about with Beck. Her boyfriend Patrick met us at her place."

"She has a significant other?" she asked, easing up the crease in her forehead.

"Yes," Archer said. "He came over and met us at Beck's place. He's a certified professional accountant." After he delivered the information he began to chuckle to himself.

"Something amusing?" she asked.

"I guess we're both jealous," he commented, sitting down on the bed.

"I believe I have already stated …."

He interrupted, "I know – Vulcans don't feel emotions." He ran his hand through his hair, still shaking his head to himself. "What are we going to do?"

"We could initiate our relationship to what it was," she suggested, seriously.

He gazed into her eyes. "God, I'd like to. I just don't think it would be right."

She placed her hand up, forming two fingers. He swallowed and met her hands hesitantly. His countenance relaxed almost immediately. He closed his eyes and let the tingling sensation touch his fingers and travel up his arms. 

"I've never told you how good this feels," he whispered, as if in a trance.

She stroked his fingers lightly and then broke them apart, feeling him beginning to surrender himself to his passion.

He wanted to crawl over to her and kiss her lips, but snapped himself out of the moment. He stood up and said, "Maybe I should get to bed."

She sucked in a deep breath as he gingerly eased himself up and walked toward his door. He wanted her to object, to say something; he easily would've run back for her. But, he didn't hear a peep. 

T'Pol wanted to call out his name, take him into her arms, but decided because of his wishes, to let him walk away. In fact, she was afraid if she made any noise, she would call him to her. Instead she watched as he stalked away into his bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Seven 

Archer awoke and dragged a weary hand across his hair. Having her stay with him was beginning to become a problem. He'd had a very sexy dream where she came to him begging him to come to her. It was a far cry from real life. He heaved a sigh.

He threw on some clothes and padded his feet into the kitchen. Of course T'Pol was already up. She looked up from the Starfleet PADD she was reading with a blank expression. 

"Good morning," she noted.

He smirked and dug into his refrigerator to see if there was anything that looked remotely good. Nothing, despite having gone to the grocery store only recently. He turned to her and watched her sip her tea.

"Cereal bar?" he asked her.

"Not this morning. I believe the correct terminology is … I would like to take you to breakfast."

"You're treating?" he asked with amusement.

"I was able to convert some money the other day before I met you for the museum tour."

He grinned, "Where are you going to take me?"

"You and Commander Tucker spoke about a breakfast location not far from the wharf, called …."

"McNallys," he said with glee.

"Yes, that was the name of it."

"You want to take a shower first?" he asked.

"If you do not mind," she suggested.

He nodded and made himself some coffee. She dug into her duffle bag and pulled out some clothing and a robe. She laid the clothing out and took the robe with her. "I will be back momentarily."

He looked over his shoulder and nodded. She was one of the tidiest houseguests he had. Her bed was always folded back to its original position. Her bags were always orderly and neat. And she never left a cup around. She always placed it in the dishwashing machine. The only thing that he would recognize as meaning a guest was staying were her two small bags piled neatly behind a chair. He grinned. It appeared Vulcans were anal-retentive. 

He sighed, taking a sip of his already made coffee. He crossed over to his PADD and pulled up the news for the day. The one thing he noticed was that virtually nothing had changed since the first time he'd left Earth. Earth was fairly peaceful, except for small skirmishes that were squashed quickly. Countries united, formed alliances and then broke them for economic reasons, disease was still there (no matter how advanced technology became) and something bad always happened – murder, divorce, money laundering and what not. 

T'Pol shuffled out in her shiny blue robe. He looked up over the PADD to watch her neatly carry her nightclothes over to the couch, pick up the clothes Hoshi had given her and meander back to his room, shutting the door behind her.

He read over a brief byline about how the Enterprise had returned with a few quotes from Admiral Forrest and chuckled sarcastically. His yearlong struggle, lives lost and significant heartache was reduced to a single byline. Sure, it seemed their adventures were followed while they were away and the attack was fresh on everyone's minds, but now? They were just soldiers returning home. He put the PADD down in disgust and stared out at San Francisco.

T'Pol walked out in something that made Archer almost choke on his coffee. She looked the most … human … he had ever seen her look, including the time they were forced to go back in time to Detroit (of all places). She wore loose fitting jeans and a sweater.

He couldn't help but smile. 

"I hope you have a cleaning machine. This apparently was the only thing left for me to wear."

"I think you look great," he said.

"I feel … ridiculous."

Archer laughed. "Well, I'd offer you something of mine, but I'm afraid it'd swallow you up."

"I distinctly asked Ensign Sato to refrain from denim." She thought the ensign must've have sneaked it into her bag.

He shrugged. "I take it you don't need the bathroom any more?"

She nodded, distractedly bemoaning her fate.

After another thirty minutes both were ready to go. T'Pol had managed to find something to drape over herself so as not to draw attention to her pants. If a Vulcan saw her, she knew Soval would provide another lecture.

Archer led them out the door, into the pod and to the docks. He parked at a large structure on top of a building. As soon as T'Pol stepped out, she was glad she wore something about her shoulders. The late winter wind was chilly. The ocean from that vantage point seemed to stretch out forever. A small island could be seen in the distance. She turned to Archer with a pointed brow. 

"That island is Alcatraz," he said, almost reading her mind. "They apparently have a new hologram program where they show you the prisoners who stayed there, but … who would want to see a 20th century prison?" he asked.

"Lt. Reed," she shot back.

He chuckled, "Yes, he would."

"Where is McNally's?" she asked, scanning the area.

Jon pointed to a shack-like building in the distance, took her hand and began walking toward the exit. After a few paces Archer realized his fingers were intertwined with hers. Rather than pull his hand away, he thought he'd let their touch linger. As they stepped into the elevator, he let her hand go. 

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit."

"I did not mind," she admitted.

They stepped out and walked a few blocks to the restaurant. T'Pol looked disapprovingly at it. It seemed rather greasy and smelled of burned bacon. The smell itself was enough to drive her away. But, she was truly dismayed about the grease on the counters.

The waitress greeted them with a smirk. "We don't get any Vulcans in here," commented the woman.

Archer frowned. "You still have your vegetarian menu, right?"

She nodded, pulling out a list with four items on it, including orange juice. As the menu was stuffed into T'Pol's hands she realized how eager Archer was to eat here. He looked around the place with wonder. 

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and saw one item that looked appetizing. "This should be sufficient."

Jon grinned as they headed to a greasy booth. T'Pol, wiped her seat with a napkin, scooted in and looked around. 

"I did not expect this to be the place you and Charles talked about so fondly," she admitted.

"Isn't it great?!" he asked. He pointed at one of the short-order cooks. "That guy's been here forever. Everyone calls him Shorty."

Her eyes scanned the man. Not only was he tall, he was rather large. She determined it must be an ironic nickname.

A gum-smacking waitress in her mid-fifties came by the table. She had a pink outfit on, to match the booths, and a stylus crammed in her dyed red hair. "You look familiar," she said with a grin.

Archer smiled back. "Hey, Delores."

"Where's your good-looking, ladies-man friend?" she asked.

The smile vanished as he replied, "He's not in San Francisco right now."

T'Pol got the distinct impression the woman was referring to Charles.

"You want the usual? It was a number four over easy with rye toast and coffee, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Cream only for my coffee," he said, amazed at this woman's memory for orders, but not names.

She took one look at the Vulcan and said, "Well, I'll be. This has got to be a first. What can I get you, hon?"

T'Pol's brow shot toward her bangs. "Oatmeal plain with raisins and water," she replied.

"Alright. But, a little thing like you probably needs to eat more," she retorted, writing the order in a PADD.

"On the contrary, this meets my dietary requirements sufficiently, thank you."

Delores laughed and winked. "You're all right." She walked off to tell the people in the back about the Vulcan's reply. 

"Delores never warms up to anyone so quickly," he said with a smile. "She's kind of sassy with the patrons."

"So, where are you and Trip going tonight?" asked Jon.

"The Lounge," she replied.

He whistled; the Lounge was one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in town. He wondered if there was a special occasion. Trip was sentimental; he may want to go there to celebrate their possible reunion. An awful thought crossed his mind. Would Trip propose marriage? 'No,' he thought. His stomach lurched at the idea. 

She leaned over. "Are you implying the establishment is overpriced or overly posh?"

"A little of both. People usually go there for special occasions."

"I see. Is there a special occasion?" she asked.

He shrugged.

Delores brought back their orders, shoving them under their faces. "Enjoy," she said, walking away.

T'Pol put a napkin in her lap and began to dip her spoon into the bowl. 

Archer reached for the salt and pepper and said, "Want to go to the world's best aquarium?"

"We are headed to Monterey?" she asked.

"Very funny," he shot back. "No, here. The San Francisco one is pretty good."

"Then our day is settled. Did you decide whether you could join Commander Tucker and I tonight?"

His good mood declined. He confessed, "I'm just not sure that's a good idea."

"Perhaps you will change your mind. Besides, we are all friends," she commented.

"It's just … don't you think that's a bit awkward? And what makes it more problematic is that Trip is completely unaware about us."

"I will explain this to him later," she suggested. "I can understand your reservations." This was more complicated than she had initially realized. She could see how it might be uncomfortable for Jonathan, but she wanted his company. 

"Are you going to tell Trip?" asked Archer. He peered into his coffee, wondering what his friend would say.

"I think it is best to be honest in this situation," she replied.

"I'm not so sure. I mean … if you do choose him, knowing about us might only hurt your relationship," he said. 

"Perhaps you are asking for other reasons … to maintain your friendship for example?"

"Maybe," he admitted. That hurt. She was probably right.

"I will give the matter some thought," she said, sipping her water.

The two ate in silence as both pondered the consequences of their actions, telling Trip and what the evening might entail.

T'Pol looked at the bill and counted her credits; she could easily pay for the meal.

Archer instructed, seeing she was unsure what to do. "Leave the money on the table, and don't forget about leaving a 20% tip."

"Round up or down?" she asked, calculating it in her head.

He smiled, "Up, I guess."

"Very well," she said, leaving a handful of money. 

Delores waved goodbye as they walked down the pier. Seagulls cawed, circling above, a few boat horns could be heard and the waves crashed against the docks. Very few vendors were out that day, which gladdened T'Pol. Unfortunately, Jon had to browse into every one they came into contact with looking for saltwater taffy.

One block before reaching the aquarium, he spied what he'd been looking for. He eagerly bought a few pounds and dug greedily into the bag to pull out his favorite – strawberry. He put it into his mouth and rolled his eyes. 

"Mmyourf got to mmry one," he said with a mouth full of the sticky substance.

She furrowed her brows and pulled back a vanilla. She took off the wrapping paper, and at his insistence put it back in the bag, brought the candy to her mouth and licked it. Her tongue recoiled. 

"It is very sweet," she complained.

He dug in for another one, pulling out one with a hazelnut flavoring and popped it into his mouth. He felt it slip back into the recesses of his crown, but picked at his teeth enough to force it out.

T'Pol raised both eyebrows at the sight. Seeing this man chew the candy was like watching a cow slurping on a cud – very unappetizing. But, watching him pick his teeth with his fingernails made her think man was not that far removed from the planet's primates. 

He watched her consternation and gradually put his hands down. "It was stuck in my teeth," he explained.

"I see," she offered.

Archer happily walked into the aquarium and immediately began to ooh and ahh. As they entered the large facility, a giant octopus in an enormous cage greeted them at the door. He grabbed T'Pol's hand and hustled over to it, staring in. He loved the ocean. He thoroughly enjoyed living next to it, smelling the fresh salt air and feeling the calm as the waves hit the shoreline. He marveled at the sea creature, picturing himself as Captain Nemo finding a giant squid.

"It is a shame these creatures are caged, rather than in the wild," she commented, unsure about this experience.

"Most of the animals were either bred in captivity or rescued," he said, dismissing her. "You're not going to do this all day are you?"

"Do what?"

"Make faces at me for eating sweets and complain about animals in cages," he quipped. "I didn't roll my eyes when you cleaned off the booth with a napkin at McNallys." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Actually, you did."

He winced; she could see the slightest face tremor. He realized during this entire discussion, he was still holding her hand. He looked down at it and took his away. "Sorry, it just felt so natural."

"Do you want to continue to hold it?" she asked.

Absolutely! "No, I don't think that's such a good idea." Was she offering for him to hold her hand in public? That was an interesting development.

He shuffled off to the ticket counter and ordered two tickets. The person behind the counter gave them the run down of everything that was happening from the dolphin feedings and whale watching to the shark show. At the word "shark" Archer's eyes lit up. During his SCUBA ventures with Trip, he'd never seen one. Afterward, he was both disappointed and thankful.

He pushed his way through the turnstile and marched off to the first exhibit. As they viewed the different fish and mammals, T'Pol eased her thoughts. She was confused at whether the animals were like pets. During the dolphin show she was embarrassed that they performed tricks like Porthos. But, she was pleased to see that humans were learning their language and working on communicating with them.

She was most impressed and saddened by the whales. The massive Orcas lumbered around their tanks, their calls sounded like moans. Jon could tell it was bothering her and reassured, "These two were rescued. They wouldn't have survived in the wild," he said, reading from a small plaque.

"What about the quality of their life? Would you rather be confined to a small area for the rest of your days, or killed?" she asked.

He shrugged, "I don't know, T'Pol."

"Actually," she responded, "for the most part I have enjoyed this experience."

Archer hugged her shoulder, as she looked with Vulcan glum-ness into tank. "Come on," he said. She ran her fingers along the glass and wished them well. 

As they neared the shark show, T'Pol felt Archer's excitement grow. He stared in wonder at the swarms of them, feeding off of something hoisted into their cage. 

He leaned up against the glass and murmured, "They look so dangerous."

"It says that they are not very dangerous at all," she corrected.

"Ever seen _Jaws_?" he asked.

"No."

"Scared the hell outta me," he grinned, eyeing the sharks. 

After watching them muddle around for a few minutes, transfixed, T'Pol leaned over and asked, "Are you finished?"

"I guess so," he said, imagining for the last time they were coming to get him. T'Pol took his hand trying to pry him away from tank as he let himself be dragged away. They walked hand-in-hand, trudging back toward the entrance. 

'Screw it,' thought Archer, tightening his hold on her hand. So what if he was in for the big hurt, at least he could show her how he felt.

She glanced over at him, a twinkle in her eye.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	7. Change of Hearts part seven

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part seven 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven 

Chapter Twenty-Eight 

When they got home, Jon set the bag, almost half-eaten, of salt water taffy, his security key and his wallet on the table.

"Look, I'm sorry about the aquarium; it seemed kinda sad for you," he said.

"It is unfortunate to see many of the more intelligent animals secluded and isolated. Although it appears they have done so for scientific research. Perhaps it is for the betterment of more animals."

He agreed, "I guess so." 

He looked at the clock – 3:30 p.m. and decided to pour himself a glass of beer. "Want some tea?" he asked.

She nodded. He made her a cup and handed it to her, taking his beverage to the couch. As he sat down, he exhaled in satisfaction. 

"I could get used to being on vacation," he said, stretching out into a full lounge. 

"I believe you could," she agreed, watching the steam rise from her mug. She sat down next to him. 

He put his head on her shoulder and nuzzled it there for a moment.

"So, have you decided what you're going to do about tonight?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer.

T'Pol placed her mug on the coffee table, disturbing the placement of his head. She leaned back on the sofa and gently took his head back into the crook of her neck, stroking his hair.

"I have not determined," she responded.

He felt comfortable scooped against her and gave her neck a kiss. 

"Are you certain you would like to continue? You indicated you wished us to be only friends until my feelings for Commander Tucker came to light."

He said hoarsely, "Friends don't really stroke each other's hair like that."

"Do they nuzzle against each other or hold hands?" she asked.

Busted. "No, not really," he confessed. 

She raised her eyebrow as he sat up straight. He wished she wasn't going tonight. He wished Trip had never asked to have her back. He wished he never saw them kiss. He desperately wanted to be with her. Why was this so tough? Even after the third and final break-up with Rebecca, he felt a weight had been lifted and knew she'd find someone wonderful who could make her happy.

With T'Pol, he knew he could give her everything she'd want or need, and he wanted to. He took a swig of his beer and chided himself for giving into his feelings. 'I was doing so well,' he thought lamely.

"You seem troubled by my remark," she said, touching his hand. 

"I suppose I am," he mentioned, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"What is it that concerns you?" she inquired.

He leaned forward, placing the beer on the table and leaned back. He kissed her hand, locking his eyes with hers. He leaned over and took her lips in his, panting as he did so. 

She was spellbound by his kiss. It seemed like so long since she'd held her mouth against his. The embrace was cool and refreshing, like a light breeze; it tasted somewhat salty. She felt a small flood of emotions wave through him. He felt exhilaration, followed by trepidation and then rounded off with overwhelming desire.

Feeling her lips against his, yielding to him, made him deepen the kiss. He couldn't help himself, it was like he was addicted to her. His mouth nipped at her throat, feverishly. Her skin was cool and dry. He wanted to feel it pressed against him. 

"Are you sure you want this?" she finally whispered. "You indicated this would cause you further dismay and confusion."

"What about for you?" he asked, his teeth gently gnawing her neck.

"I am uncertain," she responded. What he was doing felt delightful. 

"What do you think the chances are that you'll chose me as your mate after all this?" he asked, breathlessly in her ear.

"It is always a possibility," she acknowledged against his lips. 

He glided his hips against hers, teasingly. "What kind of possibility? Are there any odds?"

"At this moment, I would say they are … roughly 50%."

"Margin of error?" he asked, nibbling on her ear.

"None. Jonathan …."

"I don't care," he panted. 

His lips fondled hers without ending. Occasionally one of them would come up for a break, as the other would launch his assault. Their tongues explored each other's mouths nearly without pause. Archer felt his mouth nearly go dry from the loss of saliva. Her face began to feel chapped as his whiskers rubbed at her skin. She wanted to urge him on, more than she wanted him to discontinue. 

Finally, Jon decided enough was enough. Their bodies had teased each other through their clothing to the point of no return. He placed his hand on her stomach and began to slide it up her torso. She arched under him with anticipation.

Watching T'Pol's reaction was all the encouragement he needed. His hand began exploring her flesh. She reached for the buttons of his pants and undid them as the doorbell rang.

Jon came up for air first and looked over at the clock. In their make-out session, he had completely forgotten about the time. 

"Shit," he whispered. Knowing Trip was on the other side of the door managed to drain all the desire he had out of him. 

Her eyes turned wide with alarm. "I have not prepared," she said, stating the obvious. 

He threw himself off of her quickly, "You can take your bags into my room and change." 

He couldn't believe what had almost happened between the two of them, and so easily. He realized his pants were undone and snapped the buttons shut while taking a deep breath. T'Pol wrestled her sweater down, grabbed her bags, walked swiftly into his bedroom and closed the door. 

Archer took another deep breath and smoothed his hair down, as the doorbell rang again. He trotted to the door and opened it.

"What the hell took you so long?" asked Trip.

Archer stammered goofily. "Fell … uhm … asleep on the err couch," he said, trying to devise an excuse. He looked at the state of the couch, finding the pillows on it askew.

"Oh. T'Pol ready?" asked Trip letting himself in. He looked at Archer – the man's face was slightly flushed, his lips looked a little red and there was something in his eyes he couldn't quite place. Probably nothing.

"I don't know. I don't think so," stuttered Archer.

Trip wondered why Jon seemed so out of sorts. "You coming with us to the 602?" asked the engineer with a smile. "I hear Ruby's still there."

Jon remembered his friend always had a thing for Ruby. "Uhm, I don't think so."

"Come on. What else are you doing? Reading?" he teased.

"Maybe," he agreed.

"Come on, Jon. You can read anytime. It'd be nice to see you. Besides, T'Pol wanted to thank you for having her stay with you. Seems like you've really cheered her up."

Archer put his hands on his hips. Oh, this was really awful. "Neither of you have to thank me. She's been wonderful," began Jon with love-glazed eyes.

Trip furrowed his brow, walking over to the couch and throwing himself down. 

Archer continued, "Company, wonderful company. It's been fun to take her to some new places." He sat down and picked up his beer.

"Yeah, she's a lot of fun. Come on, Jon, she's a Vulcan. Fun isn't exactly her middle name," he chided. 

"I find her very interesting," disagreed Jon.

At that moment, T'Pol entered the room. Her hair was brushed back. She was wearing a cross between a Vulcan robe and a dress and her face was flushed with a bright green. Upon her arrival both men stood up immediately. 

"You look nice," said Trip with awe.

Jon gave her an admiring smile.

"I believe I am ready to leave," she said to Trip. She gave Jon a guilty glance. 

"Jon, sure we can't talk you into going?" asked Trip. 

T'Pol's eyes met Jon's. They were a deep shade of green and had almost a tinge of the want he saw in her eyes as they had kissed only minutes before. She parted her lips slightly and Jon heard himself say, "Okay," before he could stop his mouth.

Trip punched him lightly on the arm. "That's what I'm talking about. Well, I got a pod waiting downstairs."

Jon put a weary hand through his hair and grabbed a jacket. What in the hell was he thinking?

Chapter Twenty-Nine 

The three walked into the 602. On their arrival, Trip was greeted in cheers by two people – Ruby, one of the waitresses, and Emma the bar owner. Trip waved enthusiastically and sat down at a table, holding the chair for T'Pol. The three sat down. 

"Hasn't changed a bit," commented Archer.

"Sure hasn't," Trip agreed. 

Ruby sauntered up to the table and gave Trip a large wide smile. He reached up and gave her a friendly hug. "Ruby, it's good to see ya."

"You going to guess any more?" she asked, insinuating the names of her unborn children.

"Nope. No more guesses. I'd like you to meet T'Pol," said Trip, gesturing toward the Vulcan.

Ruby's smile faded. "Oh, nice to meet you," she said, getting the hint that he and T'Pol were an item.

She turned toward Archer. "Jon, it's nice to see you," she commented. "You're looking pretty thin."

He smirked, "Yeah, well …."

"You're a real hero around here," she said, batting her eyelashes.

Trip got the idea that maybe Jon needed some companionship and said, "Listen, why don't you ask Emma to fill in for ya and join us for a few minutes. You know, take a load off."

Archer shook his head, feeling Trip was about to thrust the man's ex-girlfriend onto him. "No. I mean, let's not disturb her while she works."

"I do get off in a few hours," she offered.

Jon knew this was a bad idea. Why? Why did he agree to come? He took one look at T'Pol and realized the answer. He crossed his ankle over one knee and said, "Sorry, I have plans later."

Trip raised both eyebrows, as he got a signal from Archer not to push. Ruby seemed somewhat deflated. "So, two porters, right? What do you want, T'Plow?"

"T'Pol," she corrected. "Tea would be fine. Thank you."

Trip reached under the table and put his hand on her knee. He locked eyes with T'Pol. "Girl, I have missed you something fierce."

She raised an eyebrow, as Archer tried desperately not to roll his eyes. The table had no tablecloth, so he could see clearly that the man was stroking her knee with delight.

Archer looked at T'Pol, hoping she'd put up some kind of resistance. And in fact, he noticed ever so slightly, she would move her knee away, making Trip search for it each time his hand popped up.

T'Pol finally turned to Trip and mentioned, "Please do not display affection with me in public. I already feel slightly uncomfortable as the only Vulcan in the premises … and possibly the first Vulcan to ever visit the establishment."

Trip leaned in, wrapping his arm around her. "Sorry, honey. You just look so good. I had to."

Jon tried to divert the conversation, "Guess where T'Pol and I went for breakfast … well … brunch."

"Don't tell me McNallys," said Trip.

"Yes," commented T'Pol.

"You got Miss Fussy Pants to McNallys?" he asked, teasing T'Pol.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. "Actually, it was her idea."

"What'd you have?" asked Trip with amusement to T'Pol.

"A hot bowl of grains."

"Oatmeal," added Archer.

"Well, then maybe you'd like my momma's grits," joked Trip.

"You going to take T'Pol to Florida?" asked Archer, munching on the peanuts brought to the table.

Tucker bowed his head. "Well, I'd like to. I'm not sure my momma knows about T'Pol yet, and I'm not ready to bring it up," he said softly. 

"It is of no consequence," she said. "I will meet your mother if and when she is ready."

Archer felt the devil nip at his insides. "So how's Natalie?"

Tucker sank in his seat slightly. "Fine," he dismissed.

"Natalie?" asked T'Pol. She remembered from Archer's mind this was why Charles left her.

He hung his head as a beer was hastily delivered to him. He grabbed T'Pol's hand on top of the table. "She was an ex-girlfriend who started calling me up almost a month before we got here. She … she wanted me back. I'm sorry I didn't want to tell you." He glared at Archer, who sipped his beer coolly.

"I take it, you ended this relationship?" she asked, confused why Jonathan brought up.

"Yes, I ended it. I'm crazy about you. I knew what I had with her couldn't touch the experience I had with you. I was so stupid. I was so wrong." Trip kissed her on the cheek. "I hope you can forgive an idiot like me."

"I can always forgive you, Charles. However, I am still uncertain about us."

Archer suggested softly, "Maybe I should go."

"No," insisted T'Pol. 

Trip waved his hands. "Nah, I'm sorry. Honey, I wanted to talk about this with you later. Do you mind if we hold that conversation until then?"

She gave a single nod, as he wrapped his arm around her.

Archer rubbed at his thighs anxiously. He slammed down the rest of his beer and smacked his glass on the table.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him disturbed by his emotions. She felt both men had a torrent of turmoil within them. Charles was eager to win T'Pol back. He knew the chances were slim, but realized he couldn't live without her. He was still fighting the difficulty of their interspecies relationship, particularly what his parents would say. And, he was passionate for her. His touch brought an onslaught of feelings. He envisioned taking her to bed and making long, slow love to her like he did in the early days of their relationship.

She already knew Jonathan's thoughts. She gathered he was brooding, wondering why he'd agreed to this torture. Every movement Charles made was a pang to his heart. Worse, there was a small side that wanted his friend to win. He knew the man was happy with T'Pol. But, fighting that was his absolute adoration of her. Literally everything she did was better than anything else he'd ever experienced. She kissed better, brushed her hair better, was smarter ….

She turned to Trip, his arm draped around her. "Please, your affection ...."

He withdrew his arm, looking like a scolded dog. 

"Uhm, we went to the aquarium today, too," said Archer, trying to cut through the tension.

"Have a nice time?" asked Trip.

T'Pol looked at Archer and said, "Yes."

Archer gave her a closed-mouth grin, letting his gaze linger, he continued. "You should've seen her with the sea otters. I think she was only able to stay in there about five minutes due to the smell."

Trip chuckled, "Well, that pretty nose of hers can smell anything a mile away. I remember I went into her cabin one night. You know, I wanted to surprise her. I was in her closet, naked as a jaybird. She was able to smell me and even knew I was only holding a bottle of champagne."

Archer's smile flattened. 

"On the contrary. I could hear you … giggling."

"God that was sexy," commented Trip, remembering the incident. "She tricked me into thinking …."

T'Pol saw Archer's discomfort and said, "Do not uncover the details. I doubt he would want to hear them."

"Well, alright, honey," he said amused by her shyness. "Say, you met with Soval the other day, right. How'd it go?"

"I must make a decision tomorrow. He has offered me a position back, reporting to the Vulcan High Command."

"Sounds great!" exclaimed Trip.

"It comes with certain sacrifices," she noted.

"You'd still be aboard Enterprise, right?" asked Tucker.

"Perhaps. That is a detail that remains to be discussed."

"Cap'n, you're not just gonna let T'Pol just waltz off Enterprise, are you?" asked Tucker.

"Starfleet has offered her a field commission. She'd be reporting directly to me as Commander."

"Commander's got a nice ring to it," said Trip.

"That means you may have to go back to being called Lt. Commander," nudged Archer with a grin. 

"Worth the sacrifice," said the Lt. Commander. He stared at T'Pol with lovesick eyes. 

Archer flagged Ruby down for another beer. 

"Pretty thirsty tonight?" asked Tucker.

"You can say that," claimed Archer.

"What time must we be at the restaurant?" asked T'Pol.

"Got reservations for seven o'clock."

"Heading back to Florida tonight or staying here?" asked Archer, already drinking his second beer. 

"In the area – a little B&B in Sonoma" he said.

Archer was getting the feeling Trip had planned a _very _romantic evening. His stomach started to bother him a little just thinking about it.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice. It's got a fireplace, a sunken bathtub …. All the amenities and more," he said, looking at T'Pol.

Archer rolled his eyes. He chugged this beer down as well, and was already beginning to feel light headed.

"Charles, I hope you do not think I am staying with you," she claimed.

"No, ma'am," he grinned. "I'm a gentleman. I just thought maybe if by the end of the night something were rekindled …." He made swirling patterns on her hand as he grinned teasingly.

Archer snapped, "She said she's not staying with you."

T'Pol raised both eyebrows at Jonathan. 

Trip screwed up his face. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

Jon polished off his beer. "Nothing, I'm just … I'm just looking out for T'Pol."

"I can 'look out' for myself," she cautioned.

Tucker chided, "Besides, you've had her all to yourself for about the past week."

Archer flagged down another drink.

T'Pol noticed the man seemed to be on a mission. He was about to have his third beer at the 602 in only thirty minutes. Obviously he was upset by the entire display. It had been illogical of her to want him to come. 

"It has been a most extraordinary week, as well," she commented, looking into his eyes, hoping to give him a deeper meaning to her statement and comfort his confusion. 'Perhaps that will let him know how I feel about him,' she thought.

Ruby delivered another drink looking at Archer with wary eyes. 

Trip grinned sheepishly and said to T'Pol, "With any luck, your week will only get better."

Archer began to pour this beer down his throat. Trip seemed oblivious, lost in T'Pol.

"I did not know we were spending time together," commented T'Pol. "Jonathan and I planned to visit the Tibetan monastery tomorrow."

"Oh?" he asked. "Well, maybe you can do that at the end of the week. Tomorrow, I was hoping to take you around the Sonoma valley. It's real pretty."

"Then you are not returning to Florida tomorrow?" asked T'Pol.

"Nah. I wanted to have another day to be with you," said Trip, leaning over toward her. "You said you had some important things to tell me."

Archer guzzled his drink, tossing it back like he was drinking water on a hot day. He felt extremely light headed. Maybe that last drink was a bad idea. 

"Jonathan, do you mind if we postpone our trip to Tibet?" she asked.

"No. No, of course not," he said sarcastically. "I'll just rearrange my entire schedule to accommodate Trip."

T'Pol felt he was on the verge of creating a scene and touched his hand, hoping to gather his thoughts to find out how far away he was from blowing up. The answer was startling: very close. He was enraged. There was a tidal wave of emotion building up in him than had been churning almost ever since they arrived.

Trip backed off, "Well, Jon, if it's a problem, I can probably find another day."

"No, I mean why not? What the hell?" he droned on. "It's not like my thoughts or feelings really matter here. Do they, T'Pol?"

A couple of patrons looked in their direction. 

"Jonathan, perhaps you and I can talk in private for a moment. You can become angry with me elsewhere," suggested T'Pol in a hushed voice.

Trip was astonished. "Listen, Jon. You're obviously pissed off at her about something. I don't mind getting her out of your hair. I know you're not big on house guests."

Jon was about to open his mouth when T'Pol decided to do something daring. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of his chair. Trip scratched his head as the two made their way to the back of the bar near the restrooms.

"Why'd you yank me over here?" growled Archer.

"You were about to embarrass yourself."

He folded his arms. "Well, you're letting him put his hands all over you, talk about past sexual encounters and con you into spending the night with him. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You were right about coming. It was a bad idea."

"Yeah, but … you're so beautiful. You wanted me to be here. You asked me to. I had to come," he whispered, his nose nuzzling her hair.

"You have had too much to drink. Perhaps it is best I call a taxi for you."

"You going to go with him tomorrow?" he asked. 

"Possibly. I did want to ask Soval some questions. Staying in California might allow me to do that."

"You going to stay with him tonight?" his voice cracked with emotion.

"No, I do not believe so," she said. 

"I want you in my bed, T'Pol. I want you with me," he said, closing the space between them.

"I understand your desires. However, I am not certain I can accommodate them. You were correct; I still have feelings for Charles. More than that I … feel … confused at this time. Perhaps some distance between us would be helpful."

He said, "You didn't act that way when we came back from the aquarium."

"Your constant physical closeness may have marred my judgment."

"Really? You acted like you couldn't keep your hands off of me," he whispered as a challenge. 

She raised her eyebrow defiantly. "Perhaps it is best that you leave," she suggested.

His eyes were sad and his face grew long like a puppy's. "T'Pol, don't do this."

She steeled her emotions. Distance was probably the thing she needed from him most of all. Even talking like this, she could feel his emotions radiating off of him. He felt sadness, anger, disappointment, love, lust, jealousy and confusion. She needed to think. She was having difficulty keeping her own emotions at bay.

"Jonathan, I think it is for the best. You yourself wanted this earlier. Our … mutual attraction … perhaps got the better of us. Both of us." 

"Don't do this," he said more urgently. 

"I will collect my things tonight after dinner. I hope you will not make a scene in front of Charles."

He felt himself get a little misty-eyed. "Does this mean you're choosing him?"

"Of course not. I need to think about both of you. Jonathan, please do not make this difficult."

Archer looked into his soul and found the man he let himself become in the Expanse – the strong one. He straightened his spine and cleared his throat. "All right."

"You mean a great deal to me. I hope you understand my reasoning."

"No, I don't. Seems pretty clear to me Trip's embarrassed of your relationship and wanted a cheap lay with Natalie. When that didn't pan out, he came back to you because it was convenient. And, rather than stick around someone who loves you, adores you, you'd rather think about why you'd like to go back to Trip."

She stepped back. No. That couldn't possibly be true. Her mind felt confused and her emotions were completely unsettled. 

He turned around and walked back toward the table. He dug into his wallet and tossed some money on the table, leaving T'Pol behind him. He said to Trip, "If you're serious about wanting her back, I hope you stop acting like a chicken shit about your relationship. She deserves better."

Trip was about to open his mouth. Archer marched toward the door and spit out, "Enjoy your vacation."

T'Pol grabbed her head. She wished she had meditated today. She could barely think. She strolled wearily to the table and sat down.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Perhaps I should begin by explaining that Jonathan and I have grown much closer."

Trip leaned back in his chair with a frown. "How much closer?"

She looked him in the eye and reiterated, "Much." Her eyebrows gave the faintest jump.

She began to describe how the relationship began after Trip broke up with her, how she made the first move, his claim that he had loved her for almost her entire time on Enterprise and how she had merged minds with him due to her depth of feeling for the man. 

After an hour of hearing about this, Trip sat back, too stunned to say anything. "That doesn't change the way I feel about you."

She said, "I would like to go to Sonoma with you. But, perhaps after that I would like to spend some time on my own."

"All right," he said. He leaned in a little and said, "I would like you to come to the cottage with me tonight after dinner."

Her head was killing her. She nodded. "Very well."

Tucker decided maybe instead of taking her to dinner, he'd take her back to the room. She looked pale and like she needed to talk more than eat at a fancy restaurant in downtown San Francisco. In his mind, he'd toyed with the idea of suggesting they get married at dinner, but decided under the circumstances, that wasn't such a good idea.

He put down money for their beverages and walked out to the pod, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. He helped her in and said, "I think I have a medical kit in the back if you need something for your headache."

As she walked into the back, he decided to bring up a sore subject to both of them. "Want to get your bags?" he asked.

She located a hypospray and touched it to her neck. She felt only marginally better, and realized her emotions were really the cause of the problem. She scooted up to the front seat.

"No," she asserted. "I can retrieve them tomorrow." She by no means wanted to see Archer.

T'Pol noticed that Charles was very quiet. The man was never quiet. Even when he wasn't talking, he was fidgeting or doing something to keep his mind busy. 

"I am certain you have many questions about the information I conveyed about Jonathan and myself," she commented.

Tucker had a billion questions to ask, but wasn't sure he wanted to bombard her. He felt betrayed. How could his best friend go and sleep with her? Why wouldn't he ask for permission? What was she thinking? Was it a power thing? He was too old for her and not even her type.

"Well, I got a real good idea what happened. I guess I feel real betrayed," he admitted. 

"By whom?"

"Well, Jon, for starters," he said.

T'Pol took a deep breath. "You had ended our relationship, Charles. How did he betray you?"

"He should've talked to me or something," he suggested.

"He should have talked with you?"

Why was she making it sound so ridiculous? "Well, yeah. See, there's a code. You don't start dating another man's ex, unless you get permission."

"He needed permission to date me?" she retorted. "Besides my own?"

"Now, you don't have to make it sound so stupid. It's a guy thing."

"A 'guy thing'?" she asked. 

"Yeah, like an unwritten code. You don't drink another man's beer, don't date your friend's sister and always ask for permission before you go out with a pal's ex."

She raised her eyebrow at the young man. 

"I mean, he's kinda old for you anyway," he mumbled.

"I am his elder by more than twenty years. And, he is only eight years older than you, correct?"

"Do you think he's attractive? I mean, have you always?" he asked. He'd never really thought of his friend in that way. He imagined he dated. He'd met Rebecca, but he'd never really seen any women besides her throw interest his way. Well, maybe Riann, but it was hard to get a beat on that relationship.

"Yes," she said. 

Well that hurt. He was itching to ask who was a better lover, but decided against it. "So, do you love him?"

"No. Vulcans are incapable of love. But, I have deep feelings for him."

"You developed deep feelings in a week?! Must've been a hell of a week," he grumbled.

He was right. But, she had really been developing feelings possibly ever since she thought he felt something for her that day when he comforted her. She had been growing closer to him while they were enroute to Earth. And, before they had entered the Expanse, she been his friend and had known of his attraction for her. Perhaps, really, there'd been something there all along. It just took a week for it to manifest itself. 

"And you already joined with his mind?" he asked. It'd taken her months to begin that process with him.

"Yes," she replied.

"And, how do you feel about me? You said uncertain?" he asked.

"Uncertain is how I feel, yes. I feel deep feelings for you as well."

"You feel unsure about me because of him?" he asked. Suddenly he wanted to smack his friend's face with his fist. 

"Only partly. You wanted to discontinue our relationship. I pursued a relationship with a man I knew was in love with me," she confessed.

"But, you still have deep feelings for me, too?" he asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Even when Jonathan and I had touched minds, he saw my feelings for you."

"So, tell me about your feelings," he insisted.

She looked out into the night sky and let her emotions flow over her, trying to describe them. "Affection, caring, understanding, attraction, the feeling of having something unresolved, friendship …."

"Do you feel desire?" he asked, trying to keep his brain on the controls. 

"Not at this moment, but yes," she commented.

He put his hand on her knee and stroked it. Well, even after everything she told him, he still wanted her. "You want to sit in my lap. I'd like to just hold you."

"What about the safety?"

"What about it? Come on, it won't kill you to be a little spontaneous now and then," he urged.

She climbed into his lap as he hugged her to him. She felt odd having let things progress so far with Jonathan, and now flitting off with Charles. What was she thinking? Her mind stumbled over "let things progress so far." She hadn't _let_ anything happen to her. She'd been a willing participant. In fact, when the doorbell rang, she was disappointed more than frightened.

Trip planted his lips on the side of her neck. "You smell good," he said.

"Thank you," she commented. 

He raised her dress up a little to stroke her knee. "Feel pretty nice, too."

She felt very uncomfortable.

He kissed her throat again, as she finally confessed, "I would prefer to sit in my own seat. I hope you do not mind."

Trip was thoroughly confused, but thought she needed more warming up to the idea of the two of them together. "All right."

She climbed out and back into her own seat. He remained quiet until their descent into Sonoma near the cottage. "We're almost there."

She wondered if it was too late to back out. Why was she nervous? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Perhaps she was having what humans might call second thoughts. It was true she had deep feelings for Charles. She wanted to determine how deep they were. Why did this feel so wrong?

Trip popped out of the shuttle and grabbed his bag. As he made his way to the cottage with her and opened the front door, they stepped into the lobby of a cozy looking bed and breakfast. The woman behind the counter was in her mid-twenties with long black hair. She saw Trip and smiled immediately. She was surprised to see such a handsome man with a Vulcan. No doubt they were colleagues. Although, he didn't look much like a scientist.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I have reservations under Tucker," he drawled.

She punched a few buttons behind the desk and said, "Yes, you do. Number 5." She found the security card to the door and handed it over to him. She looked at T'Pol, "And your reservation is under?"

T'Pol was about to speak – maybe having a second room was a good idea. 

Tucker interrupted, "Oh, uhm. She's staying with me." God, this was going to be tough. Some humans just weren't ready to accept Vulcans and humans together. He could only imagine the look she'd give him once she found out. He didn't care so much as … he didn't want to draw attention to themselves.

The woman seemed aghast, "Is our government really that cheap to keep you two in one room?"

She just didn't get it. He shrugged. How was he going to explain they were a couple – as in he wanted to share the same bed as this woman?

"Nah, see it's nothing like that. Well, we're …," he stammered. 

"We are together," T'Pol said on his behalf. 

Now the woman was completely beside herself. "I am so sorry. I had no idea."

Charles looked sheepishly at the girl. T'Pol had a way of being so indelicate. She didn't understand humans sometimes. 

"It's okay. Number five, right?" he asked.

"Yes," said the woman. 

Tucker put the bags over his shoulder and headed out with T'Pol.

"Were you going to tell her, or cause her to guess?" asked T'Pol with stoicism.

"That's not really fair. You interrupted me. I was going to tell her," he said.

She raised an eyebrow, as Tucker opened the door and allowed her in first. The room looked like something out of the Victorian era, with frilly white curtains, maroon velvet couches, ivory doilies under lamps and a black wrought-iron bed. 

Trip gaped, "Damn. This is fancy." He set his bags down, turning his head this way and that to look at the room. 

"Yes, it is pleasant," agreed T'Pol. 

Trip walked over to the fireplace and began working on it. T'Pol slipped onto the couch, spread onto it enjoying the warmth of the newly started fire. 

Once the fireplace was crackling, Trip turned around with a smile. "I don't know what looks better, this fire or you stretching out on the sofa like that?"

She narrowed her eyes and decided his question was rhetorical.

He sat down on the couch and put his arm around her. He leaned in and whispered, "So, you want to find out your feelings about us?"

She turned realizing exactly what was on his mind. "Charles …."

"I'd like to, too," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

As their lips met, Tucker felt a tingling sensation travel down his spine. She always did that to him. He wasn't sure if it was because her lips were so cool, or for some other reason. His mouth nibbled on hers for a moment. She wasn't exactly responding, but she didn't push him away, so he saw that as a good sign, given everything else that had happened tonight.

As they broke apart, T'Pol said, "I am hungry."

"Me, too," he admitted. "Want me to go wrestle up some grub?"

"Please."

One thing about bed and breakfasts, they didn't really have food available when you wanted it. He decided to walk down to the main office and ask about dinner reservations or some place to get a bite to eat.

T'Pol lounged on the couch. Perhaps she should contact Jonathan to let him know she was well. She thought about how when he was with Rebecca, he declined to contact her. Perhaps she would leave well enough alone. 

Being by herself felt calming. Her emotions had been running rampant all night. One moment, she was curled up in Jonathan's arms, the next moment Trip had his arm wrapped around her. This was a problem. She didn't want to lead either man on. And, yet, she was completely unsure which one she wanted. They both had merits. She felt deeply for both of them. She assumed logic would eventually reign, but thought her emotions were too close to the surface, and her attraction to each man too profound to make a decision. This was atypical Vulcan behavior. Having been through the emotional suppression techniques should have made a choice filter to the top, but she could not decide.

What was she looking for? Why was she having trouble? She determined that she would rest her eyes and think on the matter. 

When Trip returned, he found T'Pol sound asleep on the couch. He grinned. She really was exotically beautiful. He took the food in and set it down on the table. She stirred a little.

"Hey there, sleepy head," he commented.

"Hello," she said. 

"Got a little something for us to eat. Want any?"

She peered into the bag. "What did you get?"

"A salad for the lady. And a hamburger for the gentleman," he said, waiter-like.

She licked her lips. "Thank you."

The two talked in general about her vacation and what she enjoyed about Yosemite and the Grand Canyon. Trip teased her about the aquarium, and referring to it as a "place where they keep animals in tanks." And, he told her about Florida, his sister's commemoration and his parents. His older sister had insisted on doing something much to everyone's chagrin. But, he had to admit doing something felt good. He'd wanted to do something for Lizzie and was glad the family had a chance to talk about her.

After a couple of hours, and having consumed their meal, Trip slipped his arm around her shoulder.

"This feels pretty good," he admitted. "Feels pretty natural."

She laid her head on his shoulder. It did. It felt like old times.

He took her chin in his hand and pulled it up to his lips. When she began to kiss back slightly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tighter, deepening it. His tongue rolled against hers.

She was able to pick up his almost every thought. He definitely had more on his mind than just this embrace. His hands reached under her hair and he gave a soft moan into her throat. 'A lot more,' thought T'Pol.

He was in heaven. This is exactly what he wanted tonight to be like. He was back with his girl, in a nice room with the fire only now beginning to die and he felt ticklish from his lips to his feet. He felt she wanted him, and that's exactly what he wanted to feel like.

His mouth traveled down to her neck as he reached for her hand and placed it on the zipper to his sweater.

She broke away. "What are you doing?"

He shook his head to clear it. "Uhm, I just thought …."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Seemed like you were enjoying it," he said. He tried to dive at her lips as she edged back.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"I do not want to push our relationship," she said.

"Why not? I mean, it's not like we haven't seen each other naked," he said. 

T'Pol said, "It is different now."

"Well, you slept with _him_," accused Trip. She could see the anger welling in his eyes. "What I meant is … oh, hell, I don't know what I meant."

She remained quiet.

He suddenly had a mental image of his pal and his girlfriend doing the nasty. He frowned. The thought alone was enough to stifle his arousal. 

"Well, I don't want to push you into anything. I mean, I want to make love to you, but I want to respect your wishes."

She was silent.

"But, you said I was desirable?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Yes," she admitted.

He smiled. Well, that was good. At least he had sexy going for him. He said, "Well, I think you're hot as hell."

She raised her eyebrow.

He grabbed her into a hug. "Well, maybe we should turn in." He looked at her attire. "I know you don't have anything to sleep in. I have a shirt you can use."

She looked down at her dress. "That would be appreciated." 

"I'll let you have the bathroom first," he said, riffling through his bag and pulling a shirt out for her.

She took it from his hands and strolled into the bathroom. Tucker sat out on the sofa, watching the embers die and thinking about his decision to ask T'Pol back. He was crazy about the woman. He knew her better than just about any girl he'd ever known. But, maybe part of the reason he broke up with her in the first place was the emotional barrier between them. Vulcans were cold by nature. She'd never run to him smiling, throwing her arms around his neck and squealing. She'd never be so impassioned she'd cry out his name. And, maybe he craved someone who would. He himself was a passionate man. He loved to eat well, drink well and possibly he wanted a woman who could do the same.

As this thoughts turned over, he realized maybe it was this that held him back from acknowledging her to the desk clerk, rather than embarrassment. Maybe asking her back was a mistake. Nah, he was over thinking things. He missed her. He wanted her. Having her back in life felt … well, it felt good.

She sauntered out of the bathroom wearing his garment and said, "It is yours."

Trip said, "We only have one bed. That a problem for you?"

"No."

Trip smiled and headed off to the restroom. When he came out, he was dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt. She was wearing the only T-shirt he brought. He lay next to her and wanted to cuddle, but decided against it. Instead, he stroked her hair and dozed off.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	8. Change of Hearts part eight, ending

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Change of Hearts, part 8 of 8 

Change of Hearts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight 

By the time Archer got home he managed to sober up a little. He'd acted like an ass, but at least a justified ass. He sat down on his couch in a huff and picked up one of the pillows T'Pol used the night before, bringing it to his nose grudgingly. It smelled like her. 

Maybe he'd wait up and apologize for acting like such a jerk. He decided to turn on the computer console and watch a couple of movies. Soon, one movie became two, and then three ... and then four. He nervously watched the clock, making concessions with himself if she came home before a certain time. 

If she came home before 11 p.m., she wanted him, not Trip. Eleven o'clock came and went. 

If she came home by 2:00 a.m., she was just angry and wanted him to worry. That time flew by.

If she came home by 3:30 a.m., there was still some measly shot of them getting together, anything later and it was doubtful they could even be friends. 

After watching nearly five movies, consuming almost a pot of coffee and having paced the apartment more times than he could count, he decided to give up. At about 6 a.m., he decided to close his eyes and rest his mind; he fell asleep on the sofa.

Around ten that morning, the doorbell rang. Archer fumbled to the door and answered it. 

"You don't need to explain anything. I don't want to hear it. I just came to collect her bags," said Trip sternly. 

"Where is she?" he asked, trying to wake up.

"I just came to get her bags."

"Where is she, Trip?" he asked.

"She's downstairs in my pod waiting."

"She didn't even want to come in?" he asked, afraid.

"Just give me the bags," urged Trip.

Archer stumbled over to them and handed them over. Trip threw them over his shoulder and said, "Before this is all over, you and I need to have a serious talk."

"I know," agreed Archer, rubbing the back of his head. 

Trip took off down the hall as Archer wearily closed the door. He hung his head down at his chest and took a deep breath. 'She's never coming back,' he thought. 'I doubt she'll want to go back to Enterprise.'

'Too bad Porthos is with Hoshi. I could use a friend,' he thought, wondering whether he and Trip would even be able to repair the discord that would probably exist between them. 

Archer shuffled over to the couch, bent down to get a pillow T'Pol had used, and then walked back to his bedroom and shut the door. 

Chapter Thirty-Two 

Trip walked down with the bags, cursing under his breath. 'Some friend,' thought Trip, thinking about how Jon had weaseled his way into T'Pol's life. 

He took the turbolift down and sprinted out to the car with her things. He stuffed them into the pod, climbed in and took off. As they drifted away from San Francisco, T'Pol's mind began to clear. Her head had throbbed all night. She knew she and Charles had many things to discuss, and her attraction to Archer had gotten in the way of her feelings. Her attraction to both men was a problem, as was their attraction to her.

As they hit the city limits, Trip turned to her, "So, darlin', I thought I'd show you the whole valley. I know you don't like to drink, but the vineyards are spectacular."

T'Pol stared out the window, indeed she could see some of them already. They were pleasing. The green, rolling hills dipped into the skyline littered with rows of grape vines, grey and withered in their winter hibernation. But, the twists and spindles of the vines were interesting.

"I understand why you might feel that way," she said, appreciating the aesthetics.

"Listen, about last night ..." he began. "I'm glad you came with me. I hope you didn't feel any pressure to," he admitted. "And, hopefully I didn't push you too hard to start our relationship back up. I just ... I missed you like crazy."

"What made you decide you missed me?" she asked, watching the vineyards pass one by one. 

"Lots of reasons. Like for instance, you know that thing I used to complain about -you meditating every night before bed? I miss it. And, I used to hate that you talked about work all the time. I miss that too. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, see those pointy little ears and feel your cold skin on mine. I wanna watch you drink your morning tea. I want to feel your mind again."

He thought about how they would lie on her bed, her arms and legs entwined with his and the meditation candles shimmering. Even then she seemed to study their interaction. She would think up billions of questions as he smiled, taking in the bliss. 

"I'm nuts about you," he said.

She watched him fly the pod, raising her eyebrow. "You seem to have difficulty accepting our relationship."

This again? "Not really," he said. 

"What about last night when you had the reservations at the cottage?" she asked, remembering his embarrassment at the desk clerk's realization that they were a couple. 

"Now hold on. You interrupted me. Just because I think this human/Vulcan experience is a big step doesn't mean I don't care about you."

He squirmed under her raised eyebrow.

He decided to come clean, "I just don't like people staring at us. Although, I think they're looking at us 'cuz you're so pretty."

T'Pol's eyes sparkled. This was one of the reasons she was enamored with him; he knew how to turn a situation to his advantage. 

"How 'bout I pull into that winery over there?" he suggested, nodding toward a white adobe building.

He parked the shuttle in front as the owner, a large man in his mid-fifties, scurried out of his house. "You must be Charles Tucker," he started. He rubbed at his moustache as he saw T'Pol step out.

"A Vulcan?" he asked in awe. "This is indeed an honor. My ancestors were in Montana when you people landed."

She raised her eyebrow. "You anticipated our arrival?"

"Your ... boyfriend?" asked Jerome. 

Charles nodded.

The owner smiled. "Of course. Your boyfriend called up and made reservations for lunch. You two are the only ones here."

He brought them out onto a veranda that was covered with twisted vines, mostly out of season. The hillside view was incredible -horses were in the far distance, lemon and orange trees and more vines as far as the eye could see. The day was sunny, with scattered clouds. The light on the clouds made them look puffier as they floated like cotton balls in the sky. 

The large man pointed to a table and said, "Please sit down. I'm the owner, Jerome Genoa. You're the only customers this afternoon, so the pace of your meal is entirely up to you."

Trip smiled as the waiter held out T'Pol's chair and scooted her in. 

"Senora," said Jerome. "I imagine you do not drink. May I bring you some tea?"

She declined. "Actually, I drink on rare occasions. This might be one of them."

Trip grinned, "Well, in that case, I'd like to order a cabernet, I understand they grow in this region."

Jerome smiled thoughtfully, "Oh, they do indeed. Since your beautiful Vulcan lady rarely drinks, I'll consider this a special occasion. Yes?"

Trip guffawed, "Yes."

"Do you mind if I just bring you something? I know you will like it."

"Sounds good," agreed Trip. 

T'Pol watched the man hurl his girth back to the kitchen and turned to Charles. "This is extremely pleasant."

"You sayin' I know how to show you a good time?" he asked. 

"Indeed," she confessed, taking her napkin and placing it into her lap. 

He grinned and threw his own napkin onto his legs. He picked up the menu and saw a wide-variety of items. He was glad to see a lot of vegetarian dishes, he'd forgotten to check ahead.

T'Pol glanced over the menu. All of it looked appetizing, the landscape was scenic, she felt comfortable and yet something was missing. She raised her eyebrow wondering if she had forgotten something.

Trip picked his choice. "Well, I know what I'm gettin'. Honey, you don't mind if I get a tray of veggies, meats, cheeses and breads, do you?"

She eyed the same selection. "Of course not," she agreed. "Those were my choices as well. Perhaps the vegetables more than the others."

Jerome toddled back with an old fashioned bottle of wine -it was encased in glass. "The Vulcans were very good to my ancestors after the war. I vowed to be good in return," he said, blowing dust off the bottle. "We don't get many aliens around here."

He poured the wine dramatically for T'Pol to take the first sip. She did and realized it was most likely the best alcoholic drink she had ever tried. "This is quite good."

"I'm pleased you like it. It's from this region. The same man who saw the Vulcans moved to this area a while after the war and made this bottle of wine. It is extremely rare," he admitted.

Trip said, "Well, that's mighty nice of you to share it with us."

"My ancestors helped Cochrane launch the first warp vessel." He bubbled, "Maybe later, miss, I'll show you something that your people gave to my great-grandfather. It's a delicate emblem that looks like a triangle."

"IDIC," she responded. "It means infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Surak teaches to embrace cultures that are not our own. Vulcans have tried to live by this policy since then. In fact, the first explorer Sren used this philosophy when meeting the Andorians ...."

Trip quipped, "Well, we know how that turned out."

T'Pol furrowed her brow. She gave Jerome a Vulcan greeting, parting her fingers down the middle. "Peace and long life, Mr. Genoa. Vulcans befriend few. Your ancestors must have been extraordinary."

Jerome, tickled, poured a little more for the two of them. 

Trip mentioned, "We'd like your veggie, meat, cheese and bread platter."

Jerome nodded, "Excellent choices. Might I also recommend the figs. They go well with this wine."

T'Pol nodded, "Of course."

Trip felt like Jerome was getting a little more attention than he was. After Jerome smiled broadly and walked off, Trip stared out over the countryside. He walked his hand over to hers and held it. She allowed him to do so, and felt his emotions -he was happy to be with her. 

He leaned over and said, "So, we could arrange to stay here another night if you like the place."

That had possibilities. "What about Florida?"

He countered, "What about spending some time alone?"

She remained silent. Though, she wasn't sure she was ready to be intimate with Charles. Why had been so easy to become intimate with Jonathan? Was it possibly that she used Jonathan to hurt Charles? No. Maybe?

She took another sip of wine. It was truly delightful. She understood why he had picked it for her. It was not sweet, nor tart. It had a nice finish that included flavors that he probably knew she would like -nutmeg, cinnamon .... 

Trip ran a finger up her ear. "You have got to the sexiest woman, I've ever seen."

She let him fondle her ear and then eventually moved from his hand. 

"No one else is here. No problems with public displays of affection," he said. "They're more like private displays of affection."

"It is difficult for me that you automatically expect a relationship."

"Doesn't seem that hard. We just kinda pick up where we last were. Remember that time I convinced you to climb into the Jeffries tube and ...."

She didn't want to say it, but he was making it difficult not to. "I am still uncertain I want a relationship with you again."

Trip sat back in his chair. "You seemed pretty eager to get back with me a second ago," he said with confusion.

"Perhaps it is Jonathan. My time with him was rather ... intense," she explained, looking down into her drink.

"How many times did you sleep with him?" he asked, more thoughtful than jealous. Well, maybe more envious.

"I did not keep count. Is there a significance to this?" 

"No," confessed Trip. "When you said intense, I assumed it had to do with ... physical contact."

"By intense I mean both physical and mental contact. 

"So, you had a lot of powerful physical and mental contact. And that's making you doubt your feelings for me?" he asked.

"Somewhat," she explained. She couldn't fully explain it to him. "When I touched his mind, I could feel he knew me," she explained.

"I don't get it," he responded.

"He ... he spoke to my katra," she admitted. 

"Huh?" he asked. 

"You, Charles, are like ... fire. You are warm and affectionate. You build up to anger quickly, but it is fleeting. You are generally easy-going with rushes of passion. He is like an ocean. He is possibly mysterious, calming .... His anger is slow but forceful," she realized she was becoming too personal for Charles' comfort. 

"That's okay. His soul is like an ocean. And you liked that?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "He stirs peace and introspection. His mind is compatible to mine."

"Look, maybe I can satisfy those things. Just, tell me what you need from me," he insisted.

"I am uncertain you can satisfy them."

"You're not really giving me a chance here," he retorted.

"You ended our relationship." She sipped her wine. "Tell me, why did you end it? Was it Natalie?"

Jerome brought out their appetizers, but sensed he brought them out at a bad time. He set them down and slunk back to the kitchen, barely staying long enough to pour more wine. 

Trip grabbed at some proscuitto and nibbled on it. "I was scared of our relationship. I guess ... at the time ... I didn't know where we were going. I felt a little insecure about us. And, I heard from Natalie. We have ... had ... history. I thought it made sense to find out if there was anything there."

T'Pol placed the wine to her lips and inhaled a small amount. "Let us start with your fear of our relationship. What were you afraid of?"

"I know this sounds stupid, but I was concerned that I'd love you more than ... well, more than you could loved me," he admitted. 

She thought of Archer's love. It seemingly had no boundaries. Despite her relationship with Trip, he had continued to love her. "Does love transcend these feelings?" she suggested.

"Maybe," he confessed. 

"You claimed you 'did not know where we were going.' I do not understand this," she commented.

"It means, I wasn't sure if we were thinking of marriage," he stated. "I wasn't sure if Vulcans wed. It seems silly now, but I've always imagined myself with a heap of kids and a big church wedding."

"You and I have already discussed that having children seems impossible," she noted. "Our two species are incompatible in that way."

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's always bothered me a little, but I thought we could work it out," he said, taking a swig of his wine.

She considered that Jonathan neither imagined himself with children or without. "You felt insecure about us?"

"You rarely tell me how you feel," he mumbled. "It's hard for me to guess what you're thinking."

"Why did you not ask?" she questioned. "I would gladly tell you my feelings."

He shrugged, "I felt like I tried to, T'Pol."

She furrowed her brow sadly. "We have shared thoughts. Our minds have merged. What did you see when we were together?"

"A dry Vulcan desert at about dusk and a woman who longed to have her ears stroked," he teased.

"Yes. You could see inside my soul, Charles. Is that not enough?" she asked.

"Nah, I guess it's enough. But, the whole desert thing seems like a bunch of Vulcan mumbo jumbo to me. All I know, honey, is that you mean a lot to me. Isn't that enough?"

She considered his statements and realized something crucial. In one sitting, Jonathan had managed to see into her very soul. He identified her immediately. It was if he knew it was her. He understood the analogy without explanation. She felt his feet pad along the desert, stalking the dunes at twilight. Having him inside her head made her feel complete. The fact she had to cajole his thoughts and emotions was somewhat erotic. The knowledge that he shared his thoughts with only her made her feel honored. She knew she alone was his confidant. 

"_I give credence to the Vulcan ... 'mumbo jumbo,'" she stated. _

"You said you saw me," he reaffirmed. "Doesn't that mean something?"

"Indeed, I did. You are a volcano. You are silently rumbling with emotion and zeal. And on occasion spew and then go back into dormancy. You are powerful, full of vigor and life. You are ruled by your passion, which is explosive. You rush into decisions, sometimes without thinking of the ramifications and radiate with an energy that is vibrant."

"Doesn't sound too bad." He placed his hand on her thigh. "I know what I feel in my heart, T'Pol. I know how I feel on the inside. I'm crazy about you. I want you with me ... maybe always." 

"Natalie?"

"T'Pol, we'd been going out for years. We had some good times. I thought maybe there was something there worth picking up."

"Like our relationship?" she asked.

"No," he whispered. He grabbed behind her head and brought her lips to his. The kiss was searing in temperature. Charles' body temperature was hot. Not feeling any resistance he deepened the kiss. She placed her hand underneath his blonde hair and twirled her fingers in his fine locks.

T'Pol broke their embrace. This felt completely wrong. Everything about it. It felt familiar, yet unsatisfying. She could even tell in Trip's mind he was unsure. 'Why was he going through with this?' she thought. 

Jerome came out at that moment to check on everything. Upon seeing the two, he backed away and headed back in. Trip leaned on the table. "What do you want from me?" 

"I want ... I wanted to come to a decision. I needed to know your thoughts," she withered.

"You want to know my thoughts, find out," he said, implying she merge minds. 

"That is not the best way to resolve things. I can learn your thoughts by discussing them with you."

"Then what are you looking for here?"

"I am uncertain," she responded.

"Sure as hell feels like you're trying to find a way to say goodbye," he remarked. She was so distant. Why did he think she'd be any different? He knew he loved her. She could be so irritating at times, though. Why couldn't she just accept things as they were?

The idea struck her in its simplicity. Perhaps he was right. Maybe she needed closure. Jonathan's love pummeled her. He'd loved her despite her confused feelings for Trip, during her relationship with the man and even before. Even if she chose Charles again, undoubtedly he'd continue loving her. 

Charles? He was seeking resolution as well. Neither had any since their farewell on Enterprise. Although they had promised to be friends, they had not sought each other's company. They both were looking for a way to put the past behind them. With her, it was easy, another man presented himself and she found there had always been a spark with him. Jon had weaved himself into her life before she dated Trip, and now had become impossible to extract. 

Charles was wonderful. There would never be another man like him. And yet, she knew things were over with him. It was impossible to turn back the hands of time and replay the relationship. It had run its course. 

"Yes," she clarified, as if realizing it herself. 

"Huh?" he said, thinking he didn't quite hear her correctly.

She stroked his face and said, "I will always remember you."

"You're shitting me? I thought you needed to think about things?" he asked in confusion.

"I do not understand."

"You've got to be kidding," he clarified, steaming.

"No. Our relationship feels just as awkward to me as it does you. However, you are unwilling to admit it."

Was she serious? He felt completely bewildered. "Wait a second. Are you telling me you love Jon?" he asked. He couldn't believe it. It was such a short time.

"Vulcans are incapable of love, but I believe you and I are trying to resolve things between ourselves, rather than start a relationship again," she commented.

"I can't just go back to Natalie. And, I _do _love you, T'Pol," he said. "I don't know why you doubt it."

"Because you doubt it yourself. Why did it take so long for you to profess your love? You have indicated you were 'crazy about me,' and asked me to confirm your love, but you have never stated it. Charles, you mean very much to me. But, I believe you are correct -a farewell is the resolution we both needed."

He shook his head, shoving his hand through his hair. "This just doesn't make any sense."

"I will pay for lunch. Please leave me here." She knew the owner had rooms available in his hotel since he claimed no one else was staying. He seemed to understand her customs better than other humans. 

"We're in the middle of nowhere," he argued. "I may be pissed as hell at you right now, but I'm not going to just leave you here!"

Jerome stepped out from the shadows. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. We'll take care of her. She can have a room at the guest house, if she'd like it."

T'Pol looked grateful. "I would. Charles, I do not wish to leave."

"You're going to think about things, right?" he asked.

"I do not need additional time. It seems the answer has always been clear. I refused to listen to it," she explained. "I believe we both refused to listen, beloved."

He threw his hands up in the air and cursed. "What the hell have we been doing, if you knew the answer?!"

"I do not believe either of us intended to harm the other. However, you and your words have clarified matters for me."

"I think you're making a big mistake," he said. He pointed his finger at her. "You're not thinking straight!"

"My thinking seems to be perfectly focused."

He threw up his hands again and walked stiffly to the shuttle pod. He felt defeated. He felt angry, upset, tearful, hurt, mad and other emotions that were chaotic. He knew the sting would go away, but wondered how long it would take. She walked with him to the shuttle pod. 

"You can change your mind, you know. After you think about things," he offered, heatedly.

She decided not to answer. Instead, she held out two fingers to her side where the owner could not see. He took them eagerly. The two slipped their hands away and he headed into the shuttle. As the ship took off, Jerome walked up to her and shifted his weight.

"Relationships are never easy, no matter the species," he mused, watching the shuttle fly off into the horizon.

"No," she agreed. 

"I take it you've been thinking about another man?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked. She wondered if that man was thinking about her. She may have damaged the relationship beyond repair. 

"No," he said. "But, I bet he's a pretty lucky guy."

"I am unsure," she said. 

"Why do you say that?"

"I believe I have erred," she commented.

"Well, I guess everyone makes mistakes," he said. "If he's human, he'll know that."

"Perhaps," she commented. "I do not wish to trouble you, but I would like to use your comm. I need to contact someone as soon as possible."

He smiled, "Of course." He took her in through the kitchen of his own house and showed her into his study. She indeed saw the symbol of the IDIC framed and on his mantle. Her eyes smiled at the man. 

"Thank you," she commented.

"I'll give you some privacy," he said, walking out of the room.

She leaned into the comm and spoke softly. "Ambassador, I wish to speak with you about your offer. I would like to take it. However, I wonder if we may discuss some of the finer points?"

Chapter Thirty-Three 

After two days of moping around the house, Archer began to feel a little stir crazy. He decided that maybe she'd come by to talk or something. He wanted to be there in case she did, or if she tried to contact him via his comm. 

On the third day, he began to realize perhaps this plan was not only foolhardy, but delusional. He decided to call up Admiral Forrest and inquire as to whether T'Pol had accepted Soval's offer, or if she hadn't.

"Admiral," began Archer.

"Jon, nice to see you," said the admiral. "Hope you're enjoying the last of your vacation. You don't have too much longer until you ship out."

"Yes, sir," claimed Archer.

The older man smirked, sensing something was wrong. "What can I do for you, Captain?" 

"I wanted to hear if you found out anything from Soval," indicated Archer. He hesitantly asked, "About T'Pol, that is."

Forrest leaned toward the console. "Is there a reason you can't ask T'Pol yourself?"

Archer scratched his head. "It's personal. I'm asking you off the record, sir."

"Yeah, she agreed to take the position reporting to High Command. I'm not certain what her orders are, but it surprised the hell outta me. I'd already gotten the clearance I needed for her field commission."

Archer nodded. "Thanks, sir."

"Something you want to tell me?"

"No, sir. Archer out."

Admiral Forrest gave a small sigh and turned off his comm. Well, that settled it. T'Pol was most likely going to head back to Vulcan -just like that. She wasn't going to say goodbye, or apologize, or admit how much she needed him. Definitely not the last. Nope, instead, she'd most likely chosen Trip ... or neither of them.

As he thought about his luck, or lack there of, a communication came through. He clicked the button as a fresh-faced cadet looked at him. "Henderson at the ship docks, sir. We had a request from a Sub-commander T'Pol to board Enterprise. Do you approve her request?"

"Is she there?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," the young man said.

"Let me speak with her."

T'Pol stepped in front of the screen. "Captain, I wish to board Enterprise."

"I understand you accepted Soval's offer, Sub-commander."

"I did. I would like to collect a few things."

"Permission granted," he said. He could see the relief in her face and continued, "On one condition. I supervise you while you're aboard. I mean, you're not assigned to Starfleet any more. There are security risks."

She resisted, "I can make a special request of the High Command to allow me access."

"Go ahead," he bluffed. "I'll be there at 1520 hours."

He turned off the comm and jumped into the shower with a renewed sense of purpose.

Chapter Thirty-Four 

After a long ride in a shuttle pod to the docks, Archer stepped out and saw T'Pol. He noticed she hadn't called Soval or any other Vulcans for her clearance. Instead, she was sitting alone, staring at the deck plating dressed in a white jumpsuit. 

She looked absolutely gorgeous, even better than he remembered. He wanted to greet her with a hug and tell her how much he'd missed her, but felt like that would be an intrusion, especially in front of the cadet. God, he was just grateful to know she was alive. With a slight frown, he wondered if she was irritated about their last encounter at the 602.

She smelled the odor of coffee wafting down the corridor and turned her head. It was him. He looked handsome, and had a swagger despite his insecurity. She wanted to greet him in a hug, but he seemed displeased. She was nervous about this encounter and had put it off purposefully. She tried to determine whether he still wanted her. But, she had to find out, and being aboard Enterprise was neutral ground for both of them.

He showed his badge to the cadet who'd called him earlier. The young man nodded and opened up the ship to them. T'Pol quickly passed inside as Archer followed. The Enterprise was completely empty. 

As soon as the door swished behind them, he said, "I'm glad you're okay."

"I am quite well, thank you."

"I was worried."

"Were you?" she asked. "You seemed most volatile at the bar."

"You can understand why though, can't you?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she offered. Yes, she could.

The two continued to stride down the hall and entered the turbolift. He stopped it. "So, this is it? No more first officer? No more friend? No more ... us?"

"Captain ...."

"_Captain_?" he asked. "Listen, _Sub-commander_, at the very least I feel you owe me some kind of explanation. I've been your friend for years, and still will be, despite what happened between us."

"You were of course correct about Commander Tucker," she mentioned. "I could see clearly that he was afraid of our relationship once the mission ended. It seemed both of us turned to something known, rather than embrace something unknown." She still valued the friendship of the engineer. There would never be another man in her life like Charles. Period.

He didn't want to ask how she knew. He assumed they'd merged minds again. Knowing that made him sad, but hearing the hurt in T'Pol's voice made him sadder. 

"I'm sorry," claimed Archer. "I know Trip would never set out to hurt you."

"I know," she agreed.

He reached over and turned the turbolift on. "So, because the relationship ended you want to go back to Vulcan? I mean ... I assume it's ended, right?"

"Yes, I chose to end our relationship."

The doors opened as T'Pol filed out, followed by Jon. She walked quickly down the hall as he kept up with her. She punched in the code to her quarters and walked in. 

"You are going to continue to follow me?" she asked, watching him barge in.

"Seems you and I aren't finished," he said without much thought. "Okay, let's play this out. So, your relationship ended with Trip? Big deal. You have a lot of people on board who would miss you. I'd miss you."

"Is that the captain talking?" she asked.

"No, the captain would probably want the best science officer he'd ever had to stay. As your friend, I'd miss you."

"What about our affair?" she asked, beginning to open drawers, pulling out clothes. 

"What about it?" he asked, sitting down on her bed. He thought the gesture might suggest something, but didn't care. Maybe he wanted to suggest something.

"It would be in the way," she commented, tossing a few items of clothing in her duffle bag.

"Not necessarily. I mean, not if you didn't want to continue a relationship."

"Would you want to continue our relationship?" she asked. 

He stood up and walked across the room. "Would you?"

She did. But, she'd been wondering how he would feel. 

Jonathan stirred something in her. He had acted as a friend, a lover and a confidant. He accepted her for who she was, was willing to own up to their relationship with everyone, including his commander, and was incredibly attentive. They had many things in common, enjoyed each other's company in that way that people who are comfortable in each other's presence do and had an unyielding passion for each other. 

Jonathan was always there, as if their souls were two halves that fit together perfectly. His innermost self -- serene, quiet -- touched her in a way that was beyond comprehension. Her choice was always easy: Jonathan.

She had to know how he felt. "You did not answer my question," she commented, taking out a shirt. 

There was a part of him that was too proud to say anything. He'd been hurt by this woman -more than a few times. Yet, everything in his body yearned to be with her. He needed her in his life like he needed oxygen to breathe. It wasn't like he could really live without her. And, with remorse, he knew he'd always feel that way. He wasn't into that astrology, Nuevo-religious stuff, but maybe being with her was part of his destiny. He reached down to her hand and took her two fingers and slid them along his. 

"I'd like to," he whispered, worriedly.

Her mouth reached for his, taking his lips gingerly. She'd forgotten what it felt like to kiss him - calming. She pulled away, but he let his lips lingers on hers. After a few moments, they parted.

"Are you serious about accepting the post from Soval?" he whispered.

"I do not see an alternative. I want to be able to see my home planet again some day. And despite everything, I owe loyalty to Ambassador Soval. I know he has gone to great pains to see me returned to the title of sub-commander."

"Maybe you can talk with him about staying here," he suggested. 

"He has already agreed to that condition, if I wanted it. I was interested in hearing your feelings," she confessed. 

Elation. "I think we can make it work out. I've already told you what the captain thinks -you're the best-damned science officer he's seen. I would like you to stay as a friend; he thinks highly of you. And, as for the boyfriend ... he's in love with you. And it'd be hell to see you go after you seemed to admit feeling the same way."

"It seems all of you speaks in concert," she said.

"I guess so," he mused. "But, the boyfriend wonders if maybe we can hang out here for a moment and get reacquainted with each other," he grinned.

"That is possible," she admitted. 

He shoved the things off her bed and lay down. She snuggled up next to him. He began kissing her tenderly, taking her lips in his with small teasing bites. She parted his mouth with her tongue, exploring more deeply and with conviction. 

She broke away. "Will we continue this once you are my captain again?" she asked, feeling his lips at her throat.

"If I'm lucky," he teased. He could tell she was serious and claimed, "It's a technicality, but you don't really report to me."

"It is a technicality," she agreed.

His mouth nibbled on her ear as he whispered, "It was the same technicality that allowed you and Trip to begin a relationship; I already approved of it for you two, why not for us? But, I don't think we need to flaunt our relationship in front of the crew ... not that I would be embarrassed of it."

She met his lips eagerly, enticing him to kiss her more feverishly. She said breathlessly, as she came up for air. "And what about Charles?"

He backed off for a second, panting. "What about him?"

She reached her hands underneath his hair and brought his lips back to her. "Will you be able to repair your friendship?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I think so," he said. 

She gently twisted on top of him and pressed her lips against his throat, giving him small love bites. His hands stroked her hair. 

"Remember the day of the aquarium?" she asked, nipping at his Adam's apple. 

He hissed a little. "Yes?"

"We embraced for nearly an hour and a half," she mentioned, her lips meeting his again.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

She took his mouth in hers and slipped her tongue into it. She could feel his heart beating wildly and his body perking up with arousal. The two dove for each other's lips over and over, until in a small break, T'Pol said, "I would like to feel your thoughts again. Do you mind?"

He took her hand and held it to the side of his face and teased her mouth with his. Her fingertips danced along his temple as their thoughts began to merge. 

As their lips sought each other out, she waded into his mind. She walked into the tide and saw his eagerness for her to continue. He did not have the same restraint as in their last merging; this time, he met her eagerly, showing her any thoughts she wanted to know. 

As their lips caressed each other's, she asked about the days she was away from him, and saw him brooding and depressed. She saw how he'd waited for her, expected her to return, but then finally how he'd given up thinking she'd chosen his friend. She viewed his elation at hearing she was trying to board Enterprise. She noticed how afraid he was that he'd lost her. Seeing her comforted him, part of him was worried something dire had happened. 

He gave her visions of his love and understanding. His arms opened wide for her, always welcoming her with boyish enthusiasm.

She showed him that everything between her and Charles had been fairly platonic -two friends searching to put an end to a relationship that dwindled. She had not merged with his mind. She had gathered his thoughts through conversation. 

He saw the epiphany -knowing neither wanted to continue. He felt the waning of a relationship, grinding to a halt. He saw in her mind she would always care for the man profoundly, but realized they could never go back to the way it was before. And she acknowledged the tremendous feeling of overpowering love from Jonathan. It was as vast and deep as the Pacific Ocean, and possibly more beautiful.

He saw a desert at twilight -sand dunes darkened with two fading suns and one large moon, followed by a smaller one. The sky was a fiery red, lit up brilliantly like the petals of a rose. The clouds were wispy, and the ground was so still. No wind touched the dunes he walked on and the sand was chilly between his toes. The inner calm and peace of the woman was amazing. He fell onto the sand, sinking down, feeling the cool arms of the desert cradle him. His mind grew quiet and kissed at the earth.

As she embraced the ocean, she felt the warmth of sunlight; Sol's rays beamed off of the deep blue waters and the waves rolled gently against the shore. He smelled of salt and spray, and inside he was so silent. She felt the need to submerge, kicking her feet into the air and diving down. She plumbed the depths, drifting down as if it were bottomless. Her hair twisted around her head as she saw a giant Orca, twirling into the current. She hung onto to its fin as it barreled down into the dark. And there he was -the blackness of the deepest sea. His inner most self -cool to the point of being icy, expansive, unknown, wondrous and tranquil. She let herself be carried lower until her head felt it was drowning in him. 

At this point the blackness began to overwhelm her senses, the waves rushed her to the surface and she broke for air literally and figuratively. 

'There was more to see,' she whispered in his mind.

'We've got plenty of time,' he called back.

Chapter Thirty-Five 

As Jon and T'Pol made their way back to Earth, he was again very contemplative. She realized each mind meld had a significant impact on him. He wasn't used to showing the deepest parts of himself to anyone and though he didn't mind showing her, it brought up emotions he didn't quite understand. He'd been in love before. In fact, he'd been in love several times before. But, this experience felt crushing. 

He usually felt giddy, playful, silly, romantic, amorous and jealous, but this tugged at something much more cavernous. He felt in a word: complete. His very soul was satiated, rather than just his heart or his libido. His mind was overwhelmingly satisfied.

She reached over to his hand and held it. "You are quiet."

"Just thinking," he said. He in truth felt inundated with emotion. He wasn't the kind of guy to cry except in his darkest depression -usually at funerals. He might shed a tear over a beer at the end of a relationship. But now he felt the choking sensation of remarkable happiness.

T'Pol gathered this feeling -it was completely foreign. If she had to describe it, his heart felt full. It wasn't quite sadness, but had a weepiness to it. 

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He laughed a little, his eyes glassy. "Yeah," he said hoarsely.

"The emotion you were feeling -what was that?" she asked.

There wasn't really a name. "Love," he said with approximation.

"It makes you want to cry?" she asked.

He chuckled softly, "I guess so."

"I thought tears meant unhappiness. I did not gather you were sad."

"Sometimes tears can be blissful," he choked out. Just talking about it was compressing his larynx, making it difficult to speak.

She touched the side of his face, where a tiny trace of water leaked out of his eye. She held it on her finger for a moment and looked up at him, pondering it. She could see him biting his lip and furrowing his brow in concentration to keep control of his emotions. 

"Your mind, body and katra are ... exquisite," she whispered. 

He nuzzled into her hand and then chided, "You ain't too bad yourself."

She relaxed into the chair and gazed at him from time to time. After a short while, she saw his demeanor change and become sunny again. He chatted softly as they approached Earth.

By the time they reached San Francisco it was near midnight. Archer was completely zapped. He forgot how difficult it was on him to maintain a mental link with T'Pol. He placed his pod card on the table and stumbled into his bedroom.

T'Pol put down her bags, following behind him. She helped him strip out of his clothes and get into bed. He was too tired to brush his teeth; he could only lay his head on the pillow and surrender to sleep. 

She tiptoed around his apartment, preparing for bed herself. She decided to meditate on all that had happened -everything. She wearily sat in a cross-legged position and began to steady her mind. It had certainly been an interesting week.

Chapter Thirty-Six 

When Archer awoke he felt completely at ease. He stretched and yawned, sitting up in his bed. He dragged his hand across his head, feeling his bed hair. T'Pol sat up slowly, her own head held a few hairs that had gone astray. 

He smiled at her and she leaned over and rubbed her nose against his. "Good morning, aisha," she whispered.

"Aisha?" he asked, his eyes crinkling at the feeling of touching noses.

She wrapped her hand around his jaw. "It means something akin to sweetheart. You have in the past used that term when referring to me."

"I have indeed," he commented.

"May I call you aisha?"

"Of course," he said. He took her into his arms and pulled her down to the bed, drawing her into a hug. He squeezed her tightly to him and growled playfully. 

She raised her eyebrow. What an odd gesture. 

"What do you want to do today?" he asked, after releasing her from his bear-like hold. 

"It does not matter," she replied.

"Maybe, then, we have enough time to see Tibet," he grinned.

"With only a few days left, is that what you wish to do?" she asked.

"Well, maybe I'll call Forrest and ask him about you reporting to Enterprise first. You can take a shower," he said, getting up slowly.

"Perhaps I will save room for you," she said, raising her eyebrow.

"Look forward to it," he said smugly. He put his pants on and watched T'Pol slip out of her robe and slink into the bathroom. 'Ah, I can talk to Forrest later,' he thought, following her in with a wide grin.

Chapter Thirty-Seven 

Archer walked down the hall of Enterprise. Most of his crew seemed happier and more relaxed. They had renewed acquaintances, seen family and friends and were able to unwind while seeing Earth.

Jon had never been so cheerless to leave his planet. He knew he'd have to, but hadn't expected to want to stay so badly. He usually itched to join the stars and explore the universe. But, after coming home from the Xindi mission, he felt like he was only beginning to get in touch with who he was. 

That and he loved being lazily wrapped in T'Pol's arms. He enjoyed breakfast with her, being able to hold her while he read a book and watching her brush her hair. Those creature comforts drifted away once he stepped onto his ship. Now he'd have to be more discreet about their relationship. Although he'd be seeing her all the time, it would be less personal.

He also wasn't sure about Porthos. Now, that was one of the things he was happy about; he hadn't seen his dog for two weeks. Hoshi had agreed to take care of him while T'Pol stayed in his apartment. But, now ... he wasn't sure what T'Pol would think about his undoubtedly odorous quadruped. 

He chuckled at the thought. He entered the turbolift and saw Trip. He hadn't really talked to him since the 602. 

"Hey, Trip," said Archer with a hopeful smile.

"Don't look so damned smug."

Archer looked down at the deck plating.

"You were right about me being a chicken shit, though," he clarified. 

Archer sighed in relief, "Did you work out everything with Natalie?"

"Not really. Wasn't really destined to be I guess," he commented. "I don't know what is."

"Trip ... " he said, wanting to comfort his friend.

Before he had that opportunity, the turbolift stopped and opened as Hoshi climbed in. She gave a girlish squeal at seeing the engineer, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her. 

"Damn, girl," he said, parting.

She smiled brilliantly. "I was just excited to see you," she said. "I've seen him," she said, jabbing a thumb in the captain's direction.

Archer looked down his nose at her with a playful smile.

As the bridge doors opened, Archer eyed T'Pol and walked across the bridge. "Hoshi, put Admiral Forrest on the main viewer."

"Aye, sir," she said, moving to her station and her hands around the console.

"Greetings, Enterprise crew," said Forrest formally. "You have done Earth proud. You saved us from a menace that threatened to destroy our planet. Starfleet holds this group in the highest regard for your work, dedication, service and sacrifice. Your names, and the name of Enterprise, will live on in the annals of history for what you've done.

I've asked Captain Archer to resume your original mission -to explore strange new worlds and new galaxies. I know you will succeed at this mission with the same urgency and fervor you gave to saving our planet. You are Starfleet's best. Godspeed."

Archer smiled at the screen as it faded to black. He turned to Mayweather. "Travis, why don't you take her out? Straight and steady. Warp 3."

"Heading, sir?" he asked with a grin. 

Archer turned to him and said, "Surprise me."

The ship began to move slowly and then the deck plating shifted into warp.

The End. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Much thanks to Monica for reading this at least twice. If you feel like sending the author some feedback, click here.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


End file.
